<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>And I Can Tell Just What You Want by xxSoliusxx</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25451515">And I Can Tell Just What You Want</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxSoliusxx/pseuds/xxSoliusxx'>xxSoliusxx</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Guide to Solius's 035 &amp; 049 Canon! [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>SCP Foundation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>035s genderfluid, 049s just tryna cure people, 049s name is florice, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Masquerade Ball, Pre-Foundation, This is cringe, but I have lost the capacity to care, its during the plague</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:06:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>30,311</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25451515</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxSoliusxx/pseuds/xxSoliusxx</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A masquerade ball is everything for a mask and no place for a doctor.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>SCP-035/SCP-049 (SCP Foundation)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Guide to Solius's 035 &amp; 049 Canon! [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1769230</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>116</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
  <span>The tinny clatter of tools falling back onto the silver tray marked the work day coming to a close. Florice sat back on his stool, carefully wiping his clammy brow with the sleeve of his glove. He glanced at the bloodied tools and wayward syringes lined in a neat row all placed in the elevated silver tray beside him. His gaze then turned away from his tools and towards the unconscious patient sprawled on the cot before him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     A young woman in her early twenties who had come to the doctor as an unfortunate victim of the disease</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Now at this very moment, she lay asleep on the cot no longer riddled with the sickness. The doctor had successfully cured her, just as he had with the dozen-or-so patients he’d tended to over the course of the entire day. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>She was still unconscious, a multitude of fresh stitches neatly sewed into her skin from the tip of her collarbone down to her navel. The doctor’s procedure was effective but not so subtle. Tearing his eyes away from his patient, Florice climbed to his feet, soreness shooting up his legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Being planted on a stool for hours on end certainly didn’t do wonders for joint health. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    He stretched lightly, twisting his torso with a wince. Then he sighed and spun around, turning away from his patient. He stepped across the room, wooden floorboards creaking under his heels as he moved towards a counter stationed along the back wall. A large wooden pail of water rested precariously on the edge of the shelf. Approaching, he swiftly dipped the tips of his bloodstained fingers into the water, submerging his hands and rising off the layer of blood coating his thick leather gloves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     A cascade of water droplets splattered against the wooden floor as he shook out his gloved hands and dragged them across his dark robes to dry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     There was a sudden rustle of sheets behind him. Florice spun around to see his patient sitting upright, confusion etched into her expression. Her thin robes slipped about her shoulders. Her bleary gaze followed the doctor who was moving across to another wall on the other side of the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Where am I?” She croaked hoarsely, blinking back the fatigue in her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “The clinic,” Florice replied automatically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “You’re the doctor...right? Am I cured?” The woman ventured, voice scratchy. She curiously picked at the thin robe placed over her shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Yes, you’re all healthy now,” Florice called from the other side of the room where he gathered up the pile of clothes in the corner. Then he turned, striding back across the wooden floorboards to the cot’s bedside. He presented the dull blue dress and ashy smock to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Here. You can get dressed now and leave whenever you’re ready. Be careful with any strenuous activity over the next few days so you don’t accidentally tear open the incision site. The stitches should fall out on their own in the next week,” he instructed as she accepted her clothes from his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Thank you, doctor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     As the woman shed the thin robe around her shoulders and began to wrestle her dress over her head, Florice turned away and picked up his silver tray of tools resting at the bedside. The shiny instruments rolled across the platter in his hands with a noisy clatter as he swept across the room, approaching the counter along the wall. He placed down the silver tray beside the pail of water. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      Then he began a cleansing process by dipping the bloodied tip of his scalpel into the bucket, scrubbing the contaminated blade clean before wiping the tool across a rag. After placing aside his shiny scalpel onto the counter, he picked up the next tool and repeated the process, scattering wayward water droplets about the floorboards around his feet as he worked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      Those very same floorboards creaked from across the room behind him. Florice glanced over his shoulder at the noise. The woman was clad in her frilly blue dress with her graying smock hanging around her neck. Her hand was turning the door handle of the exit. She paused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “I’ll be on my way now. Thank you, again,” she glanced over across the room to regard the doctor with an offhand wave before she stepped through the doorway and disappeared down the hallway. He nodded politely before his attention turned back downwards and he continued to scrub clean the contaminated needle in his grasp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Once he’d finished cleansing his medical tools, he gathered up the instruments and moved back across the room to where his doctor’s bag sat beside the cot. He let the shiny tools slide from his palms and into the bag’s depths. Then he straightened up, brushing off his hands with a noisy exhale. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     His shoulders sagged and he turned to glance about the room. This area wasn’t too spacious. The ceiling beams hung low over his head and there was a single window facing west stationed at one end of the room. The low evening sun offered bright rays which streamed into the doctor’s room. Behind him was a wooden counter where the water pails sat and before him was a single cot, accompanied by a short stool and rickety old table resting low to the ground. A bright oil lamp sat illuminated on the table’s surface, accompanied by his doctor’s bag. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      This place wasn’t an ideal situation–the room was much too cramped for his tastes. Unfortunately, at the moment, this was the only available hospitable spot available for work such as his in town. He would have preferred to have enough space to keep several cots in one room in order to treat multiple patients at once but this place could only offer enough space for one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     The creak of the worn door hinges snagged the doctor’s attention and he glanced to the left just in time to spy the mask pushing open the door. She staggered inside wearing a new host–a small brunette with a thin ragged dress that barely skimmed her knees. The floorboards creaked under her feet. She grinned, raising a hand in greeting as she strode across the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Heyyy, doc!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Good evening,” Florice acknowledged his companion. He leaned over the cot and began to work on stripping off the old stained sheets. She approached, sidling up beside the doctor and peering around his shoulder with mild interest at whatever task he was doing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “I’ve got to replace these sheets with fresh ones, then I’ll be finished working for the day,” Florice informed her shortly, gathering up the sheets in his arms. He spun around and moved across the room to dump them in a heap with all the others from earlier that day. The mask trailed after him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Good! ‘Cause I wanna go do something with you,” she proclaimed brightly dogging behind Florice as he picked up a new fresh layer of sheets from the shelf. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Mmm? And what might that be?” He entertained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “There’s a sign in town–I’ll show you,” she explained mysteriously as Florice returned to the bedside and spread the sheets over the cot, tucking in the corners. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “That explains so much. Thank you,” he grumbled drily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “You’re welcome!” The mask chirped. As Florice leaned over, she balanced an elbow on top of his shoulder blade. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     The contact was natural at this point which was still a little odd since Florice greatly preferred to keep to himself and seldom enjoyed the physical contact. However, the mask lingering about, sidling up to him or the general casual shoulder brushes had rubbed off on him over the months–the years even. It was nearly 1352, they’d been traveling together for what...three years now? Over those three very long years, Florice had grown more than accustomed to the mask’s presence. He even enjoyed it.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “You gotta get out more, doc. You stay holed up in these places every town and it's just–work, work work and </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> work! I don’t know how you stand it,” she chortled, hanging off Florice’s shoulder and leaning forwards, tilting her porcelain features to observe Florice’s expression. The doctor cast her a neutral glance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “It’s my duty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Yeah yeah that's what you always say. You need to get out more–live a little. Have fun! Play! Literally, put on a play. That’s what I do and it’s a great time!” she patted his shoulder. He merely shrugged and finished straightening out the fresh cot sheets. Her arm slipped off his shoulder as he drew himself up and turned towards the lamp sitting on the rickety table. Snuffing out the flame, the room was bathed in darkness, illuminated only by the last rays of the afternoon streaming through the window. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Florice then snatched up his bag from the table and spun around. He made his way for the door, the mask bouncing along at his side. He cast her an observational glance. She seemed to be in an unusually high mood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Stepping over the threshold, he swung the door shut behind him and materialized a key from beneath his robes, locking up the room. The mask sauntered ahead across the creaky floorboard hallway towards the front door. She whirled around in her skirt and placed her hands at her hips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Come on, doc! Hurry up! I wanna show you something, remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Florice tucked the key back into his pocket and turned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “You can spare a second longer,” he grumbled, stealing hurried strides to catch up with the mask. As he stepped up beside her, she twisted the knob and pushed open the front door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Blinding light flooded the doorway. For a moment Florice’s vision turned white and he raised his hands to shield his eyes against the sun. With pained, watery blinks, the picture beyond the door slowly faded into focus. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     He squinted at the street with sore eyes. A loud chatter of people milling about reached his ears and he observed the squeaky wheels of carts rolling by bouncing down the uneven cobble street. As his eyes slowly adjusted to the daylight, a thought couldn’t help but cross his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>      Perhaps the mask is right. I’m spending too much time working. I’ve been inside for so long I can barely handle the sunlight. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>     Usually, the doctor’s workday consisted of tending to patients from sunrise to sunset and then after dark, walking from the clinic back to the tavern where he had a room. So he seldom had reason to emerge from his clinic during the daytime. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      A sudden vicelike grip of fingers coiled around his wrist and he was promptly startled from his thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Come on!” The mask proclaimed brightly, abruptly yanking the doctor’s arm and dragging him behind her as she marched forwards down the crooked front steps of the building. Florice stumbled after her with a yelp of surprise, nearly tripping over his own boots as she tugged him into the street. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Watch it!” He snapped irritably, freeing his arm from her grasp with a quick twist as they stepped down onto the road. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Where are you taking me anyways that’s so important?” He muttered, rubbing his wrist as he squinted at the bustling street around them. The mask pointed with one hand further up the street and glanced back at Florice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Just up there. It’s not far. Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of time to get your studying and work nonsense done later tonight,” she chortled, elbowing his side. He glanced down at her with a cool expression before he spread his hand in an open palmed gesture. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Well? I don’t know where we’re going so I expect you'll lead the way?” He raised an eyebrow hopefully. At his dry words, the mask looped her arm around his before reaching up and patting his robed shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Of course, doc! Lets go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     She stepped off, her linked arm tugging Florice along beside her. The two made their way up the street. They ducked through crowds of people and passed by busy merchant storefronts with customers rushing to finish their business as shops began to close down for the evening. The mask made a few turns, Florice following beside her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      At last, Florice’s noisy booted footsteps against the cobble slowed to a halt as the mask promptly approached her destination. The doctor eyed their surroundings with an observational glance. They were standing in the town square, under a large clock tower. The square contained the clock tower, a couple of manicured trees, grassy patches and a sea of people milling about crossing paths across the square on their separate ways home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      By now the sky had faded to a ghostly orange as the sun dipped near the horizon. The pair stood under the clock tower in its elongated shadow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      The pressure on his elbow lessened as the mask untangled her arm from his and strode forwards, approaching the cobbled brick of the triangular clock tower base. Florice squinted in the evening sunlight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Papers and parchment of various weathered conditions were plastered all over the stones, fluttering in a slight breeze. Other citizens milled about the tower base, occasionally pausing to peer at one of the many flyers. The mask spun around and faced the doctor, jerking a thumb over her shoulder at one parchment particular </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Take a look at this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      Florice drew up beside her, half expecting to read off his own name in yet </span>
  <em>
    <span>another</span>
  </em>
  <span> wanted poster. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      However, he was pleasantly surprised to see that the ink scrawled across the paper spoke of an entirely different matter. As he skimmed the contents of the letters inked onto the paper, he raised a quizzical eyebrow and turned to his companion beside him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “And...why was it so crucial I saw this?” He asked drily, questioning the mask. She gazed at him, black ooze dripping onto the cobblestones beneath their shoes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Did you read it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Well, what do you think?” She peered up at him innocently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “It's...a masquerade ball tomorrow evening…?” Florice started slowly in a puzzled tone. His brows furrowed as he glanced between the mask’s expecting black grin and the flyer. Suddenly, the pieces clicked into place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “No. Absolutely not,” he shook his head, waving a dismissive hand. He spun around on his heels, turning away from the mask. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Hey! I didn’t even say anything,” she protested incredulously, hands settling onto her hips. Florice turned back around to face her. She stared at him innocently–er–as innocently as the never-changing porcelain grin could get. He eyed her stonily.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “No. I am not going to partake in such...such frivolous matters such as that and neither are you–I can’t have you causing any more trouble–I’ve got more than enough of that on my hands,” his eyes narrowed and he bathed the mask in harsh glare, pointing at her with a stern finger just to ensure his point had gotten across. She scoffed, black ooze rolling down her cheeks. It was as if the doctor’s words had gone straight over her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Why not? It’d be fun–and a good break from work for you. You need to relax more, you work too much,” she countered indignantly, shoulders bristling. Florice mulled over her words for a moment. A prickle of doubt wormed its way into his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>     Maybe I </span>
  </em>
  <span>do </span>
  <em>
    <span>work too much…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Don’t you try it with the psychological tricks,” Florice abruptly snapped out of his thoughts, glaring over at the mask. She raised her hands in a gesture of peace, accompanied by a shrug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “I’m not doing anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      Florice gave her a suspicious once over. At his wariness, she was quick to put the pieces together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “What’s wrong? Are you starting to agree with me or something?” She ventured, lowering her hands with a smug grin. Florice cast her a glare, staring into her blackened empty gaze with a steady eye. After a passing second he broke eye contact and folded his arms over his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “No. We’re not going. There’s no time for it. What’s the point of a masquerade ball anyways?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      The mask heaved an exasperated sigh before starting off on a tangent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “To relax, have fun! It’s entertainment. C’mon doc, you can take one evening off of your work to just relax. It’ll be fun, I swear,” she waved her arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “I don’t have time nor money. There’s no way to get in,” Florice made a valiant attempt to shut down the conversation but instead further entertained the mask.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “You have no faith in me, doc. I could get us in no problem,” she proclaimed, raising a hand and playfully jabbing a fingertip into Florice’s robes at the shoulder. He balefully eyed her finger before reaching up with a gloved hand and knocking it away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “No. No ball. It’s too out of our way and it will most definitely throw off my schedule,” he decided coldly. The mask beamed, flicking her wrist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Too bad! We’re going anyways. It’s tomorrow night, and we’re in town for another week, you’ll have time to catch up on any missed work, don’t worry yourself, dear.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     The mask’s expression fell to the side and she clapped her hands together. Florice rubbed his chin for a moment, eyes shifting downwards to regard the flagstones beneath his black boots. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      He’d been working tirelessly for months on end, perfecting his studies and healing the sick just as planned. Internally, he had to begrudgingly admit, </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>     I’ve made so much progress in my studies during the past two weeks alone. Perhaps I could afford a break. An evening off to relax might be good...perhaps it could be what I need to recuperate and refresh my mind. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>     Yes...a break did sound rather ideal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      Alas the doctor’s more professional cold side settled in. He shouldn’t. It was vital for him to continue working along with his structured schedule if he wished to maintain his balance of studies and curing the sick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      He drew out of his thoughts and glanced up to meet the mask’s expectant and empty gaze. His tone fell more neutral rather than a stern or unmoving. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Even if we were to go, it would be impossible. It says right there in the third line. It’s occurring at the lord’s estate and most notably for the rich only.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “You seem to be forgetting that I can be anyone I want! It will all work out, just wait and see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      Florice sighed as his words seemed to have bounced off the mask with no effect. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “So it’s settled. We’re going tomorrow night!” The mask declared cheerfully, clapping her hands together. Florice sucked in a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. He paused for a moment, gathering the words to speak. Sighing, he deflated and dropped his hand to his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “I’m not opposed but I’m not entirely convinced. We will see by tomorrow,” he bargained, gazing down at the mask with a stony expression. The mask beamed, fondly reaching up and patting his cheek with a firm hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “I knew you’d come around eventually.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Don’t make me regret this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Oh I won't, dear.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Haha upload schedule go woowoweeeowoeoe</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
  <span>The evening had approached fast. Clad in his thin night-shirt and slacks, the doctor tipped forwards in his rickety chair. He was hunched over the desk pushed under the room’s singular window. His quill idly scribbled across a blank page in his journal by the light of a single soft candle encased in a rusted silver lamp resting on the edge of the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Floorboards creaked under the mask’s footsteps as she passed by him, accompanied by a light breeze while she headed towards the oaken door a few feet away behind the doctor. The room was rather cramped with a single bed crammed into the corner and the ceiling at a tilted angle. When flung wide open, the bedroom door bumped against the corner of the desk which the doctor was currently pouring over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Florice picked up the loud creak of the door’s rusty hinges being pried open. He paused his scribbles and curiously glanced over his shoulder. The mask was halfway over the threshold. She paused, hand curled around the doorframe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “I’m headed downstairs into the tavern for the night. Y’know, for the usual chatter and such. Come find me if you need anything,” she bounced on her toes, giving Florice a fleeting wave. An automatic smile tugged at the corners of the doctor’s lips. He blinked slowly. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I’ll see you in the morning,” he grunted tiredly, attention turning back downwards at the quill doused in ink clutched between his gloved fingers. The click of hinges marked the door swinging shut behind the mask as she left the room. Straining, the doctor could pick up the faint sound of her footsteps fading down the hallway. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The two took up lodging in the local tavern for the entirety of their stay in this city. This wasn’t an unusual accommodation. The odd pair always took up temporary residence in the local tavern in nearly every town they visited. A tavern was a simple place where the two of them could easily reside together since the establishment served a double sided purpose that worked in both the mask and doctor’s favor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Upstairs in one of the guest rooms, Florice could peacefully finish any needed work or studies without distraction. Then he could get the full night’s rest required for him to function properly during his work hours of the day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     On the other hand, the mask never slept–sleep was unnecessary and impossible for her anyways, being a mask of course. So the drinking and constant influx of customers and folks downstairs in the tavern served as a proper source of entertainment for the mask through all hours of the night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Customers at each of the numerous taverns they’d stayed in always seemed oddly calm around the mask. One would expect at least some visible fear or possible outrage at her appearance. The constant flow of viscous liquid dripping from porcelain orifices...the rapid, gorey decay of hosts...that sort of thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      Yet for some peculiar reason, people remained calm around her, even approaching her to strike up friendly conversation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     The doctor hypothesized this was just part of the mask’s psychological charm–some charismatic power she was able to cast over others in her vicinity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Or perhaps it was the less anomalous explanation–everyone was just drunk out of their minds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     A set of fingers slipped and a splotch of ink blossomed across the page, flowing over and blotting out the doctor’s last few hastily scratched words of his sentence. He glared heatedly at the inky spot with an aggravated exhale. His fingers furiously tightened on the quill, nearly trembling. Tired frustration washed over his mind and his free hand curled into a fist on the desk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      After a passing moment and a few deep breaths, his fist uncurled, relaxing against the table surface. His fingers released their crushing grip on the feather and he quietly placed the quill aside. The dim light of the lantern made his head spin dizzily. His vision blurred, sliding in and out of focus in a yellow whirl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     His eyes fluttered shut as he placed his elbows on the desk and buried his face in his hands, a mixture of tiredness and confusion washing over his conscience. He squeezed his eyes shut, a bleary image of the mask unwittingly floating into his dark vision behind his eyelids. He sighed, rubbing his forehead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      The mask had been at the forefront of his thoughts lately. Well, the mask was always at the forefront of his thoughts, usually out of anxiety that related to the possibility she may have caused trouble somewhere and he’d have to go sort out an undesirable scenario she may have caused. However, as of late, his thoughts had been oriented differently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      There was a significant decrease in the doctor’s apprehensions toward the mask since she’d (presumably unknowingly) gained the doctor’s trust in the past year or two. In particular, over the past few months Florice had grown oddly attached to the mask and her companionship. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     When she lingered over him, an oddly mixed sensation of comfort and desire muddled his thoughts and effectively distracted him from his work. He found his heart to often suddenly jump with the rush of warmth that blossomed across his chest and raced throughout his body, reaching the far tips of his toes and fingers. The overwhelming rush of emotions offered him a bewildering mixture of strong affection and a sense of warm comfort. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Florice was no stranger to human emotion despite his general attempts at detachment to any sort of feelings–good or bad. He found emotions to mess up his head. They were too complicated and always interfered with his work. Better to keep them pushed down, locked away somewhere where they couldn’t mess up the doctor’s work capabilities. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Yet still, with his general knowledge of emotions, he was fairly certain the sudden rush of unexplainable comfort he felt with the mask’s company was his platonic regard for her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     He sighed, propping up his chin in the gloved palms of his hands. With heavy lidded eyes he gazed blearily into the soft dim candlelight resting on the desk, idly observing the single lick of flame flicker pleasantly back and forth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      No, platonic didn’t seem quite right. The word didn’t match the description of his emotions. The rush of feelings he’d been experiencing were much too strong. Besides, they strummed a distinctly different chord than that of close friendship. It seemed his feelings toward the mask were much too soft and were intertwined with a stronger tug of desire than usual. Too strong for the doctor’s liking, in fact. A slight twinge of worry pricked his thoughts. To ensure he was at his full work capability, he didn’t want to regard the mask in any other fashion besides a mere travel companion. Well...maybe...a very close...travel companion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Yes that was it. He wanted to keep his platonic friendship with the mask simple. After all, there was zero possibility that the doctor would regard her in any other fashion other than a close friend...despite his strong inner turmoil of feelings struggling to rationalize his clear inner desire of otherwise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     His vision snapped up from the glowing candle and he uttered a tired sigh, attention flicking back downwards as he plucked up the quill from his desk once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Perhaps continuing his medical sketches would assist in clearing his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     He dipped the feather tip into the vial of ink resting beside his leather book and began scraping the tip of his quill across the rough page of his journal. His free hand lightly held down the edge of his paper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     As he fleshed out a solid outline of two different ribcages and marked out the particular distinctions he’d noted recently between the male and female, his mind wandered elsewhere, returning to dive back down into the rabbithole of confusing, conflicting thoughts he held regarding the mask. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Perhaps he was overreacting. There was a second (although a minimal possibility compared to the first) explanation for the strong affections. The mask’s supernatural charismatic charm, of course. Although, that explanation made no logical sense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      The doctor had already proved full immunity against any sort of persuasion on the mask’s part many times over. He distinctly remembered the first year the two had travelled together where the mask had shamelessly spouted persuasive nonsense and used manipulation tactics which had failed spectacularly against the doctor and his psyche. He’d distinctly noticed her quit the games a little over a half a year into their partnership. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      Well...Perhaps his mental psyche had worn down and he’d simply fallen under the mask’s charm just as any other mortal from this world would? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      No, that didn’t sound even remotely correct. Florice knew the sensation that befell him when the mask made a persuasive attempt. The recent affectionate rush of feelings he felt around the mask were nothing similar to that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     The quill tip faltered as it scratched against the yellowing parchment.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>No…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>     Florice lifted his free hand from the corner of the page and rubbed his gloved fingers across his eyes, blinking tiredly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     No…no…He’s not...he hasn’t taken a fancy to the mask–a liking, certainly but not a fancy...absolutely not. He most certainly wasn’t–couldn’t be, really...no he can’t be...he can’t be </span>
  <em>
    <span>falling </span>
  </em>
  <span>for the mask? No! He couldn't possibly be in love with the mask–that was simply an outrageous thought to even cross his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Florice pinched the bridge of his nose as a sudden flurry of dizzying thoughts rushed through his head. His fingers drummed against the quill shaft as he formulated a strong pushback to rationalize the situation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     No. He’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>in love </span>
  </em>
  <span>nor did he harbor any other sort of feelings besides strictly platonic towards the mask. He was simply...he was just glad to have a friend. An...</span>
  <em>
    <span>unusually</span>
  </em>
  <span> close friend, Florice begrudgingly admitted. One that had no qualms keeping him warm during the cold nights. A close friend...a travel companion who never left his side and happily trudged along beside him, following faithfully in his steps as they both traveled across the wide expanse of land called Europe. For at least a few years now, they’d done nothing but journey across the continent together at each other’s side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     The doctor’s thoughts continued to wander. Over the past couple years since Florice returned from Alagadda, his only real aspiration had remained set in stone. He wanted to cure the land and save others from the terrible plague. This was his full responsibility now, since he’d been equipped with the great power and proper tools for the job. Actually, he was the only one who could fulfill this duty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     However, he wasn’t so certain about the mask’s goals. He knew she wanted to return to Alagadda at some point in order to overthrow the Ambassador and seek terrible revenge on her siblings once she’d finished regaining her full power here, in this dimension. Yet...the mask seldom spoke of Alagadda. If she did, it was usually to make a scrutinizing comparison of the city and this dimension. If Florice knew any better, he’d say she’d forgotten about her whole ordeal with being banished or she at least temporarily pushed aside her plans for vengeance in the grand scheme of things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Florice distinctly remembered a past conversation one morning as they walked on the lonely backroads–she’d let slip that she was beginning to prefer this dimension over Alagadda, especially since she had Florice at her side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     The doctor’s fingers clutching his pen had fallen still, now frozen as he was completely engrossed in his thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Florice was discreetly pleased to hear that she was enjoying this dimension. It meant she had less incentive to leave. The doctor’s opinion was very clear. He didn’t want her to leave and return to Alagadda–he enjoyed her companionship too much. If she ever returned someday, he wouldn’t be able to follow her back into the city since he was tied to this dimension with his duty here of disposing of the disease. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     He didn’t want her to leave. He found himself clinging to the hope that she’d choose to stay despite the harsh fact that her departure was clearly inevitable. She’d leave this dimension...perhaps not soon...but at some point...she would...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Florice exhaled a huff of frustration, hand falling from his nose and resting against the desk’s surface once more. Yes yes, he had no desire for her to leave. He greatly enjoyed her company as unorthodox and unruly as it was. Besides her companionship, he also greatly liked her too...he...really...really liked her...a little...too much…</span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>No. Absolutely not. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>     Florice’s fingers tightened around the shaft of his quill pen as he glared passively into the flickering flame of the dim candle, brows slightly furrowed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     He’s not–he’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>in love</span>
  </em>
  <span> or whatever other silly notion with the mask. No, there was no sort of love involved, he harbored a harsh absolute of zero feelings or affections of the romantic sort towards her–the Black Lord of Anguish nonetheless! Certainly not–he wasn’t in love with the Black Lord of Alagadda, that was a simply preposterous notion in itself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     His fingertips squeezed the quill tighter as his frustration rose. He sucked in a deep breath, eyes narrowing as he glared heatedly into the warm light of the candle, still flickering back and forth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “I am not in love...I can’t even–I don’t want to be in love with her,” he mumbled furiously in a valiant attempt to convince himself that he was in fact, not in love. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     A rising heat rose off his bristling shoulders as he glared into the fiery lantern on the desk, completely and utterly engrossed with his own furious thinking. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>     Snap. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>     Florice was instantly pulled from his swirling mind and he glanced down at the quill in his hands. The shaft had snapped between his fingers, the feather now bent at an odd angle. He exhaled an aggressive huff of frustration, promptly dropping the broken quill onto the desk and planting his heels on the floorboards. He pushed out his chair, legs squeaking indignantly against the floor. In a flash, he was on his feet, glaring down at the open journal still resting on the desk desk. Exhaustion rolled across his shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Struggling to control his rising anger, the doctor swiped a hand across the desk, slamming his journal shut and causing the ink vial to rattle. Then he promptly reached over, uncapping the lantern and reaching in, snuffing out what little light he had. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     With the room now bathed in darkness, he turned around and reached out blindly, feeling for the back of his chair. He shoved the seat out of his way and haughtily stalked across the creaky wooden floorboards until his knees bumped against the end of the straw mattress. Then he furiously kicked off his boots with an aggressive series of stomps before promptly collapsing face-first into the rough sheets messily strewn across the bed. He sighed, eyes fluttering shut as another wave of heavy exhaustion crashed over his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Perhaps things would be better in the morning.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hes doing his best ok</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Missed my upload schedule because i am very busy. Also this chapter is very long</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>     Sunlight streamed in through the adjacent window, illuminating the old tavern guest room in a brilliant morning glow. Florice stirred, consciousness surfacing as he blearily cracked open an eye to observe the bedroom’s first light. His thoughts were quick to kick into gear. He shifted and raised his head from the uncomfortably firm pillow beneath him. </p><p>
  <em>       Better get up and start work for today.  </em>
</p><p>     Florice moved slowly, his thoughts still muddled by sleep. Groggily, he sat upright, blinking slowly in the blinding morning sun. He rubbed a gloved hand across his eyes and untangled his legs from the mess of warm bed sheets. Shivering, he rubbed his arms against the chilly draft that washed across his body, passing through his thin sleeping shirt. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and planted his sock feet on the wooden floorboards before slipping off the mattress. </p><p>     Swaying on his feet for a moment, he rubbed his palms into his temples,  attempting to clear the morning grogginess. Stifling a yawn, he shook his head. The cold breeze washing across his chest helped in shaking off the dregs of his sleep. </p><p>      Florice stretched, the list of work required for the day surfacing in his thoughts. The past few days he’d tended to sick patients who’d stumbled through his clinic doors, alive. </p><p>     Today was a...Saturday, was it? Yes, that sounded correct. Well, as opposed to the previous days, this day was different. Today he would be going out to search for the fresh bodies of dead victims who’d already been claimed by the disease. </p><p>     Lucky for him, this particular city attempted more sanitary measures than most. This place practiced the act of collecting up the deceased carelessly strewn about the streets and piling them onto carts. Earlier in the week, Florice observed the carts piled with bodies being temporarily stored in an alley as they awaited transport to the burning pile several miles out from the city. The alley was located just a few streets away from his clinic.  </p><p>     The doctor had plans to dutifully visit the carts and pick out as many recent victims as possible in order to bring them into the clinic for treatment. As long as the deceased patients were fresh, he could work his medicinal science all the same and revive the unlucky persons who’d succumbed to the plague. </p><p>     But before all that, he needed to get dressed.</p><p>     He glanced across the bedroom toward his doctor’s bag resting under the rickety desk chair. He shuffled a couple steps across the floor and stooped, snatching up his bag from the floor. Straightening up, he went to place the bag onto the stool but an oddity caught his eye and he paused, glancing over at the desktop. </p><p>     Lying open on the desk was his journal, displaying the page which the doctor had been scribbling on the previous night. Florice blinked, slowly dropping the bag on the chair without breaking eye contact with his book on the desk. Muddled confusion filtered his thoughts and he squinted at the open pages curiously. He was most certain he’d slammed that journal shut in a heated fit of frustration and exhaustion the night before. </p><p>     He leaned forwards, peering intently at the pages of his notebook. His eyes roamed over his previous sketches and scribbles from the night before until–ah, there it was.</p><p>    A comforting warmth pricked his chest as he recognized the mask’s loopy handwriting scribbled neatly in the left corner of the right hand page. The note was written in the same combination of sigils and letters that Florice used throughout the entirety of his journal for all of his studies. It was chicken-scratch to the outside eye but fluid language to any onlookers with Alagaddan blood. Scanning the symbols, the words on the page played back in his mind. </p><p>
  <em>      “I’m in town right now. Mornings are prime time for pickpocketing as you know. See you around the clinic. I’ll be there when that big clock in town hits 9.” </em>
</p><p>     Along the bottom line of letters was a row of hastily scratched heart shapes. Florice was struck with a twinge of amusement at the messy hearts. The mask usually signed off with them on her fleeting notes to the doctor. He thought nothing of them, except finding them rather amusing. </p><p>     Flipping his journal shut, he turned, unwinding the drawstring to his bag and prying open the fabric to reveal the endless yawning darkness within. He slipped his book into the bag’s depths before reaching in with both hands and drawing out his doctor’s attire and leather mask in order to dress himself for the day.</p><p>      Well, it was time to get to work. </p><p>–––––––––––</p><p>     The mask stayed true to her word. Down in the alleyway a couple blocks away from the clinic, Florice had been sifting through a copious number of bodies piled onto the carts parked in a neat line along the back alley wall. This wasn’t the most sanitary nor pleasant line of work. </p><p>      A low buzzing deafened the doctor’s ears as he stood amongst the carts. Swarms of flies whizzed about excitedly in a noisy cloud as the insects descended over the pile of death. Florice had his doctor’s mask pulled over his face which helped significantly with the awful stench since the tip of his beak was stuffed with various fragrant herbs. Most notably, lavender. </p><p>       With slight difficulty, he shoved a few loose limbs out of the way, wincing as one of the ragged bodies went crashing to the cobblestones, rotting flesh dissolving across the ground. Most of the deceased here were undergoing various stages of decay. Unfortunately, Florice could not treat any of those with the most advanced stages of decomposition, which unfortunately happened to be the majority. </p><p>      “Heya doc!” A warbling voice sounded from the end of the alleyway. “Been looking everywhere for you!”</p><p>       Florice straightened up, glancing over his shoulder and shielding his eyes against the sun. He picked out the mask standing brightly at the mouth of the alley. She waved. </p><p>      “Oh good, you’re here,” Florice called a greeting and turned his attention back on the job at hand as the mask’s footsteps echoed across the cobblestone behind him. She approached, stepping up behind Florice and peering around his shoulder to get a glimpse at what he was doing as he continued and shifted aside yet another grossly deteriorating body.  </p><p>      “These losers all look pretty dead,” she remarked. </p><p>       “Unfortunately,” Florice muttered a grave response as he shoved aside a man, accidentally dislodging a chunk of maggot-ridden skin which dropped to the flagstones, white insects wriggling and dispersing onto the ground.  </p><p>      “Eugh…Jesus that’s gross–I hate dead people,” the mask declared with a disgusted shiver, stealing a few steps backwards away from Florice and the cart. A trail of black followed her under her heels. Florice shrugged, unmoved by the grotesque sight and straightened up, brushing off chunks of viscera and flaky dead skin from his gloved hands. </p><p>      The sight was bearable, it was the smell that usually hindered him. Luckily he had the fragrant herbs stuffed up the tip of his beak to resolve that particular issue.</p><p>      “Well then, I suppose its good you came right as I was finishing up,” Florice informed her, voice muffled by the leather mask strapped to his face. </p><p>      “Ugh–why are you here again? Whatever excuse you’re gonna give, it’s not gonna be sane–why are you fisting rotting corpses–scratch that, why are you in a literal body dump?” she complained incredulously, waving her arms as her expression contorted into a grimace. </p><p>     “I'm not f–” Florice sighed, shaking his head with an icy mutter. </p><p>      “There are a few people buried in here who are still intact and can be revived,” he informed her shortly, spinning around to face her. He then pointed with a gloved hand over to the grimy side of the alley wall where three bodies sagged against the ground in a row still clad in their raggedy clothes. These three corpses carried no signs of major decay and were much cleaner compared to their decomposing counterparts strewn across the carts. </p><p>      The mask followed his finger. </p><p>     “What're you gonna do with em’?” She squinted.</p><p>      “Bring them to the clinic where I will save them,” Florice explained simply. He stepped forwards, striding toward the wall. His tall shadow cast over the first body–a young man covered in irritated red patches and large boils planted in his throat. Florice felt a sudden bolt of excitement rush through his veins as he glanced sideways at the other two bodies-a girl with a frail frame and a middle aged man. </p><p>     Yes, he could save these innocent people who’d fallen to the disease. In fact, he would make quick work out of the lot of them. </p><p>     The mask sighed. </p><p>     “You’re strange, doc.”</p><p>     “How so?”</p><p>      “You think you can save everyone, even these–might I remind you–literal <em> dead </em>people,” black ooze dribbled from the mask’s original anguished expression. Florice glanced up from the bodies, turning his masked face onto hers.</p><p>     “It’s my work. My life. You know that,” he replied briskly. The mask gestured wildly with one hand, expression reverting to the upturned grin with the wave of her palm. </p><p>     “Yeah yeah, that's all you ever say. Job, work, duty it's all the same,” she threw up her hands, skirts of her dress rustling as black splattered across the dusty cobblestones. </p><p>     “You need to get out more! Live a little! Seriously! First it was reviving these dumb sick people already dying and now you’re fussing over the ones who are <em> literally dead </em>!” She exclaimed incredulously, jerking a blackened thumb over to the clutter of flesh and decay pouring over the carts behind the doctor. </p><p>     “What’s next, digging up graves and doing a little magical science to make the bones dance?” She snorted.</p><p>     Although his expression was concealed beneath his beaky mask, Florice's eyes narrowed as annoyance prickled at the base of his neck. He didn’t bother to address the mask’s obvious provocative attempt. </p><p>     “I’m perfectly fine, thank you so very much,” he retorted, quite affronted. “Now, either you can continue to belittle me or–” </p><p>     “You need more friends, or hell–even some simple acquaintances,” the mask interrupted, striding up to Florice as her hands fell to her hips. </p><p>    “–I–excuse me?” Florice leaned back as the mask tipped forwards, tilting her expression and peering up into the tinted surface of the doctor’s mask’s eyeholes with an even stare. </p><p>     Florice eyed the black sludge dribbling down her cheeks, now close up and alight in acute detail. The mask paused for a moment, studying the doctor before tipping back on her heels and snapping her fingers. </p><p>     “Yeah, you definitely need more friends.” </p><p>      Shoulders bristling, Florice was prepared to fire back a cold retort when the mask cut him off as she continued. </p><p>     “Ah well. Little old me will just have to do,” she waved a hand and paced around the doctor, the worn soles of her shoes tapping against the cobblestones of the alleyway. Florice briefly glanced over as she sidled up behind him. </p><p>     “You’re lucky you have me, huh?” she fretted from behind him in a wobbly note.</p><p>     Two arms snaked around his middle from behind as the mask bounced onto the tips of her toes to settle her chin on the doctor’s right shoulder. He briefly stiffened at the sudden contact pressing up behind him. He glanced down and noted the black sludge from the mask’s arms already seeping into the skirt of his robes. Great. Another mess to clean up later. </p><p>      He relaxed, straightening up even as the mask clung to him. The dull thrum of his own heartbeat picked up in his ears. He blinked, a sudden light queasy feeling plucking at his chest. Nevertheless, he continued despite the warm elated sensation. </p><p>     “Yes–yes. I’m aware. You remind me of my ‘terrible solitude’ at least once a week,” he replied drily. “I don’t make friends because I’m not good with people. You know that.</p><p>     “Mhmm. Keep making up excuses. It’s funny. You know what I think? I think you’re shy,” the mask grinned and Florice leaned forwards as her arms tightened around his middle. He threw up a mildly aggressive hand. </p><p>      “No. People are simply an inconvenience. It’s easier for me to travel and continue my work alone,” he grimaced beneath his leather mask. </p><p>     “So...what am I then, dear?”</p><p>      Florice paused for a moment, shoulders sagging. He relaxed, genuinely considering the mask’s words before he answered. </p><p>      “...A traveling partner…” and then the little quieter addition, “...And a friend.” </p><p>     The mask chuckled, shaking against the doctor. He found himself subconsciously leaning back into her embrace. </p><p>      “Glad to hear it,” her arms happily tightened around Florice’s middle. Suddenly, the bodies still propped up against the wall caught the doctor’s eye. He muttered a curse upon realizing he’d completely forgotten about his task. </p><p>      What was he doing here, fooling around with the mask? He had important work to be doing!</p><p>      Abruptly snapping out of his trance, his hands shot down and batted furiously at her hands locked around his waist. </p><p>     “Now get off! We’ve got work to do,” Florice’s tone reverted to his stony pensive manner. As the mask refused to move a single muscle, he wrapped his gloved fingers around her wrists and pried them off of his body, edging away out of the mask’s embrace. </p><p>     She rubbed her chin in confusion at the doctor’s statement.</p><p>     “<em> We </em> ? Don’t you mean <em> you </em> have work to do?”</p><p>      Although concealed by the plague mask, Florice cast her a sincerely deadpan expression. </p><p>      “I’d like to get work done as efficiently as possible but I can’t possibly carry all three of these bodies myself.”</p><p>––––––––––</p><p>      The two returned to the clinic a few minutes later after the mask begrudgingly agreed to carry one of the bodies. They dropped the bodies in the doctor’s operating room. He thanked the mask as she shivered, wringing out her arms and dislodging a splatter of black. </p><p>     “Ugh, gotta get the feeling of dead people off–get off–”</p><p>      Florice settled the child on the cot in the center of the room first. He pulled up his stool beside the body, now sprawled face-up on the operating table. Her skin was ashy-grey and her glazed eyes peaked from beneath her eyelids. The clothes clinging to her frail body were ragged and torn. Florice tore his gaze away from the child. </p><p>     “Could you do me a favor?” He directed at the mask who was standing idly near the door. She crossed her arms, brows furrowing. </p><p>      “Depends on what you want. ‘Cause if you want me to carry in another body–hell no. No way. And there's no way you’ll make me–<em> the </em>Black Lord of A–”</p><p>      “I just need the water buckets emptied and refilled at the well,” Florice interrupted her tirade. She paused for a moment before waving a hand. </p><p>       “Ohhhhh. Yeah I can do that. I like going out into the city,” she flicked away a rivulet of black streaming from her eyehole. </p><p>      “Thank you,” Florice’s attention turned back to the girl on the table as the mask stepped across the room behind him and picked up the two pails of water resting on the shelf on the far wall. She swept out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. Florice then swiftly pushed his mask up, taking in a breath of fresh air as he unbuckled the strap buried somewhere in the tangled mess of his hair. He placed the bulky leather mask aside on the table and sucked in a breath, bracing for the unbearable smell of death. </p><p>       Lucky for him, the bodies he’d picked out were much too fresh to reek a heavy stench. He reached into his black bag and carefully drew out the instruments needed for the operation, arranging the shiny blades and syringes in a neat line on the silver tray. </p><p>      Picking up his scalpel he hovered over the body on the cot and swiftly went to work. </p><p>–––––––––</p><p>      He worked all through the morning up until an hour past noon when he finished his procedure on his second patient. Florice had successfully revived the little girl and the young man. They’d woken in a daze, each one slowly fighting against post-mortem stiffness as their muscles warmed up and blood trickled through their veins. Both had been on edge and had an overload of questions for the doctor. He told them each the same story. He’d found them unconscious on the Main Street and therefore brought them in to treat them. </p><p>       Both were extremely stiff and still rather weak from their returns from the clutches of death. Since Florice still had patients to tend to and no other cots for them to rest, he directed them to second room across the hall where the mask was happy to entertain them for a while as they recovered from the doctor’s operations. </p><p>      After the doctor had finished with his final patient–the older man, he duly answered the man’s badgering questions at his awakening before directing him across the hall to rest up. </p><p>     Florice then neatly tidied up his workspace and rinsed off his tools. Reviving already-dead patients took a little longer and were slightly more complicated than reviving patients he’d laid to rest with his touch. Estimating, he figured he had time to revive four more people if he accounted for the time finding unscathed bodies among the piles and the time it would take to carry them back. </p><p>      He plucked up his mask from the table side before whirling around and striding out of the room and towards the front door. If he wanted to maximize the rest of his work time from now until sundown, he’d have to get moving quickly. </p><p>      Exiting the building, he stepped out into the busy street and swung a right directly into the tides of people streaming in every direction. Merchant tents lined the road, flapping in the wind and various carts and animals roamed the streets. </p><p>      The doctor happened to set out at the busiest time of the day. He glanced up at the grey sky, now bathed in a thick swath of clouds. A chilly breeze picked up, rustling the cloth of his robes. He lowered his hood. The sensation of the wind brushing his face was a rather nice change after being holed away in the stuffy surgical room for the whole morning. He kept his plague mask off and instead loosely grasped its buckled strap letting the mask dangle from one hand. </p><p>      Florice spun on a foot and began trudging through the busy crowd, down the cobblestone street towards the designated body-dump alleyway. The journey down the road to the next couple alleys over should've been quicker but pushing through the crowds proved difficult. He did his best to slip past people without causing trouble but despite his carefulness he still accidentally knocked into a few various citizens along the way and muttered his apologies to them before hurrying on. </p><p>      Briefly slipping away from the massive sea of people pushing about the street, he whirled around and he ducked under one of the merchant tents lining the street. He lingered at the tent’s corner stake where he gazed out at the crowds, observing the suffocating number of townspeople milling about the main road. </p><p>
  <em>       I’ll wait here until a path clears up. </em>
</p><p>      He decided, leaning into the shade of the merchant tent. Crossing his arms, he idly swung his mask on his finger as his yellow eyes observantly darted over the crowd, jumping from various face to face.</p><p>      Suddenly he froze, mask falling still in his grip as he caught sight of an oddly familiar face.</p><p>       A man had strode out of the crowd and approached the next merchant stall to the left of the one the doctor was leaning under. Florice stiffened, quietly observing the man strike up conversation with the merchant. The doctor could only make out his side profile from this particular angle. </p><p>       Florice slowly pushed off the pole he was leaning against, boots slowly inching backwards. His gaze remained glued to the man who had fully immersed himself in conversation with the merchant. The doctor’s eyes narrowed as he squinted at the man and his oddly familiar attire. Fur, leather...some bits of metal….weapons hanging from a belt…</p><p>      No...it couldn’t be. He must have been mistaken...or a trick of the light...right? </p><p>      The merchant made a loud remark and the man threw back his head with wild laughter. He then waved a gloved hand and turned away, gesturing wildly with his arms and presumably telling the merchant a tale of sorts. Then the man whipped around the other way, his entire face now in Florice’s view. The doctor’s feet were already shuffling backward, toward the street but at the man’s expression he froze in astonishment, feet falling still as he boldly stared directly into the man’s face. </p><p>      An eyepatch was slung over his right eye, thick scarred gashes running through his socket and down the length of the right side of his expression. The deep gashes stopped at the tip of his chin. </p><p>      Within seconds Florice had his answer. Oh he most certainly knew this man's identity as the man in question paused his conversation with the merchant, hands falling to his side. Slowly, he turned around, making steely eye contact with the doctor using his one remaining functional eye. </p><p>      Oh. Well this was a tricky situation. Who was the doctor unfortunately acquainted with that had their eye torn out? </p><p>      The bounty hunter’s brow furrowed and his hand drifted near to his belt where the familiar hilt of his short sword hung. His expression had quickly contorted into fury, he muttered a final comment to the merchant who gave him a cheerful wave. Florice blinked and edged backwards as the bounty hunter stole a heavy step forwards. </p><p>      A couple of years had passed since the doctor and the mask’s initial encounter with the bounty hunter. Apparently, coincidence led both parties to cross paths in this same city at the same time. Right at this moment, too as Florice’s gaze remained locked on the bounty hunter’s. </p><p>      The expression the man wore was downright murderous. Florice hadn’t expected that sort of rage directed at him. After all, the bounty hunter’s eye had been raked out by the mask, not the doctor. </p><p>      Nevertheless, the back of Florice’s neck prickled as uneasiness crashed over his head. There was a considerable threat here, one that was slowly approaching him with a very predatory stance and a half-sheathed short-sword. A tension rose as the doctor inched backwards, nervously glancing between the bounty hunter and the crowded street. </p><p>       He tensed, his feet itching to move. This was one opening, one chance to run. That chance would also break havoc loose. </p><p>
  <em>        Now or never.  </em>
</p><p>      Tearing his gaze away from the bounty hunter, he clutched his mask in one hand and promptly launched himself out into the street, crashing into the sea of people. He ducked under several limbs and shoved past several unfortunate people who stumbled, looking back and yelling obscenities at the doctor who’d left them far behind as he ducked and weaved through the crowd back up the street. </p><p>      The heels of his boots clicked against the flagstones as he sprinted his way through the crowded road. Casting a fleeting glance over his shoulder, momentary panic crashed over his head and dumped a fresh icy wave of adrenaline into his veins. The bounty hunter was several people behind, shouldering people out of the way in the doctor's wake. </p><p>       Florice was acutely aware he was in no condition to run forever. He struggled to think as he shoved another person out of the way and ducked around a crowd of tightly packed citizens and their dogs. The icy blood racing through his veins made it difficult for him to properly strategize and scheme up a possible plan to get away. </p><p>        As he raced down the street, a large obstacle rose into view. An enormous wooden merchant cart with massive spoked wheels and several horses harnessed to the front. Florice cast another glance over his shoulder to see the bounty hunter now a few good yards behind, struggling to push through the crowded street. Quickly, Florice ducked under the cart, nearly whacking his head on the wooden underside of the wagon as he stumbled out on the opposite side. There, he ducked down by the back wheel. He swiftly flipped up his hood, pulling it over his tangled hair and strapped his leather plague mask over his face, concealing his identity. </p><p>       After a fleeting moment, Florice peaked out from around the back of the wagon, his gloved fingers curled around the edge of the cart’s wheel. He scanned the road for any signs of the bounty hunter and quickly picked out his stocky figure still struggling his way through the crowd further up the road. It seemed he hadn’t noticed Florice’s quick slip-away. </p><p>       The doctor breathed an audible sigh of relief, muffled under the leather mask. His gaze wandered over the buildings on the opposite side of the street and he quickly spied the door to the clinic just across the way. After a passing second the doctor glanced up the road, making certain the bounty hunter was still preoccupied pushing up the street. Certain he was safe, the doctor quickly stepped out from behind the wagon. </p><p>       Keeping his masked face low, Florice swept across the street, slipping past hordes of people as he darted through the crowd. In no time he’d reached the uneven stone steps leading up to the door to his clinic. He’d grown uncomfortably warm underneath his robes as sweat dripped down his neck. Struggling to regain his breath, a painful stitch flared in his side and he clutched his middle. Quickly, he extended a hand to the doorknob and twisted the handle before pushing on the wood. The door swung open and the doctor stumbled inside the safety of his clinic, winded to all hell. </p><p>        He kicked the door shut behind him and staggered down the hallway, struggling to pry the plague mask from his face as the floorboards creaked under his footsteps. After finally managing to wrench the grey mask off he gasped, sucking in a breath of fresh air. Florice moved down the corridor, approaching the door across the hall from the surgical room. He fumbled with the handle before the door unlocked and the doctor half fell through the doorway as he stumbled into the room. </p><p>       “–And then–Oh hey doc! You’re just in time for–woah what happened to you?”</p><p>      The mask was standing at the opposite end of the small room, hands raised. She appeared to have been in the middle of telling a very dramatic tale to the audience. The three revived patients were sitting on various stools arranged before her. The two men and the girl spun in their chairs to curiously observe the winded doctor stagger into the room. </p><p>       Quickly, Florice straightened up, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead and straightening out his robes to appear more presentable. </p><p>       He raised his hand and beckoned to the mask as a bead of sweat rolled down his cheek.</p><p>      “I have to speak with you for a moment–it’s rather important,” he blurted out hastily. Then he briefly addressed the patients. </p><p>      “You are all free to leave whenever you’re ready.”</p><p>       With that, Florice whirled around ducked through the doorway, stepping over the doorframe as he stepped into the hall. The mask followed suit, kicking the door shut behind her. </p><p>       “Jeez doc, what’s got you so worked up?” She called. Florice took a few strides down the hall before he halted and whirled around to face the mask who was now leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. </p><p>      “Bounty hunter,” he explained shortly, staring at the mask with a wide eyed gaze of apprehension. </p><p>       “Uh...you mind elaborating?”</p><p>        “Do you recall that group of bounty hunters that ambushed us on the road approximately a year ago?” Florice clarified, gazing intensely at the mask. She paused, tapping her porcelain chin in thought. </p><p>       “Maybe…hmm...bounty hunters...huh...Oh! Yeah was it that time you got shot on the road?” The mask questioned with a snap of her fingers. Florice nodded. The mask’s expression fell to the side. </p><p>       “Yeah what about them?”</p><p>      “They’re here–or rather the leader is–since after all he was the only survivor,” Florice stumbled over his words and he waved a hand. </p><p>       “I had a run in with the leader just now. Come to think of it–We never got his name did we? Huh–Well–That’s not important. What’s important is that he’s now going to come looking for me, perhaps you too–although he doesn’t know you’re here too–”</p><p>        “Woah–woah slow down,” the mask interjected. She pushed off from the wall and leaned forwards, interested. “Chill, doc, I can’t get literally ninety percent of what you’re saying.”</p><p>        Florice blinked confusedly at her choice of words. The mask’s terminology often varied from the manner of language he was accustomed to. He’d gotten used to the mask’s odd wording here and there but he couldn’t quite grasp the meanings and spontaneous timing of the varying language yet. He raised an eyebrow, watching the mask as she sighed and waved a hand, black ooze splattering on the wooden floorboards. </p><p>        “Just–slow down and begin again from the start. I can’t understand you.” </p><p>       “Oh. Yes, I’ll do that. Right, so this afternoon I left to go visit the alley again. I wanted to find a few more saveable citizens–”</p><p>      “You went without me?” The mask exclaimed incredulously. Florice cast her a narrow gaze. </p><p>       “Yes. You seemed quite displeased after the first set of bodies so I presumed you desired no further business with it.” </p><p>      “Ah yeah, forgot about that. Thanks for not making me carry any more gross dead people. Now, keep talking.”</p><p>      Florice rubbed his forehead, still uncomfortably clammy with sweat. </p><p>      “The streets were very crowded. I only made it halfway up before I stopped to wait for a break in the crowd. Then the bounty hunter leader that attacked us a year ago showed up under the merchant tent next to the one I was standing beside.”</p><p>      The doctor paused to inhale deeply as he continued. </p><p>      “Then he saw me and definitely recognized me. He pulled his sword halfway from its sheath and I ran as fast as I could back here. I lost him along the way,” he explained quickly, a nervous energy wracking his hands. He drummed his fingers against the cord wrapped around his waist. </p><p>      “Well that’s quite a tale. I’m kinda surprised he was brave enough to come after you though. I seem to recall tearing half his face off,” the mask mused. </p><p>      “Yes, he seemed very angry. I believe he’s kept a personal grudge against the both of us,” Florice informed her. </p><p>      “Very rude of him, if I do say so myself. It was his fault he got his face torn off after all,” she picked at her blackened fingernails for a moment in distaste.</p><p>     “Eh, might be fun to run into him again. Maybe I’ll tear out the other side of his face so his face is all symmetrical again. Oh yeah, that’d work nicely,” she snorted.</p><p>      Florice ignored the mask’s morally questionable proclamation as it wasn’t exactly helpful. Besides, the doctor’s idea of handling the situation was clearly much different than the mask’s. A solution to this new found problem had already crossed his mind–he’d lay low for the next few days and stay inside at the clinic only seeing walk-in patients. </p><p>      His fingers continued to tap nervously at the cord around his waist. He was fighting the mad urge to break out into a feverish stride and pace around the hall to relieve some of the stress addling his mind. Instead, he shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another.  </p><p>       The mask’s attention was drawn down to his fidgeting hand as she noticed the doctor’s jumpy agitation. </p><p>       “What’s wrong with your hand?” She asked bluntly. Florice cast her a glare, his fingers continuing to tap of their own accord. She leaned forwards on the tips of the ragged leather of her shoes and gazed up into the doctor’s expression. Florice leaned back and eyed her warily as she studied his face intently. </p><p>      “Er...what are you doing?"</p><p>      “You’re pretty freaked out, huh,” she observed. </p><p>     “No,” Florice replied flatly, placing his hands on her shoulders and pushing her away. She raised a finger and puffed out her chest. </p><p>      “Well, you shouldn't be worried about that guy! I beat the shit out of him last time and I can most certainly do it again!” She proclaimed cheerfully. </p><p>     Florice assumed this was her attempt of reassuring him. </p><p>     “I’m not...worried. He’s just a setback for my schedule this final week in the city but...It’ll be easy to find a way around this,” Florice dismissed in a neutral tone as his own attempt to reassure himself. </p><p>      “I’ll just remain inside here for the entirety of the day from now on. The people in this city still need me so I must stay. However I’ll reserve travel solely between the tavern and the clinic from now on,” the doctor explained. The mask scratched her cheek. </p><p>      “Hmm...alright I guess. Sounds kinda like a boring plan to me though. You shouldn’t be so worried. Just relax a bit, I already said I can help you if there’s any trouble,” the mask’s ooze dripped onto the hallway floorboards as her hands rested at her hips. </p><p>      “Yes well I’m not one for violence and self defense certainly isn’t my strong suit–”</p><p>      “Oh! Hey, you’re not thinking this dumb bounty hunter’s going to keep you from coming to that masquerade ball tonight do you?”</p><p>      “If you registered a single word of what I just said, you would have your answer,” Florice’s brows furrowed as he regarded the mask with a stern glare. She waved a loose hand. </p><p>     “Yeah yeah–you don’t wanna go anywhere that’s not essential,” she parroted back. </p><p>     “But!” She suddenly exclaimed. “The thing about the masquerade ball is that it is for rich people! Which means that guy won’t be there and if he does turn up, he wouldn’t expect the likes of you to be there anyways!”</p><p>     Florice raised an eyebrow at the poor wording of her proposition.</p><p>     “The likes of me?” He questioned drily. The mask shrugged. </p><p>     “You get the gist.”</p><p>     Florice sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. He didn’t exactly want to attend some silly party, especially now that the bounty hunter’s hostile existence was prowling around some part of town. Internally, he had to admit, the mask did have some points with valid merit behind them but the doctor would prefer not to admit that out loud. Instead he grumbled an intelligible string of, </p><p>      “I’m not even going to engage with this,” he decided before raising his head to regard the mask. </p><p>     “We can talk about this later. Right now I’m going to open up the clinic for the rest of this evening,” he asserted, raising his mask to his face and fumbling with the silver buckle around the back of his head as he strode past the mask and down the hallway with heavy strides. </p><p>      “You can’t avoid this forever!” The mask called from behind him. He heard the audible smack of her hands falling to her sides from the height at which she’d raised them in indignation. “We <em> are </em> going to talk about this later and I <em> will </em>remember that, doc!”</p><p>     Florice simply raised an irritable, silently gloved hand as the gesture of acknowledgement to her words before he disappeared down the hallway and slipped into his surgical room. </p><p>––––––––––</p><p>     Evening fell fast. The doctor sat up in his guest room above the tavern. His cheek rested in his left palm as his elbow was propped up on the desk. Before him lay his journal flipped open and the quill with the blackened tip rested beside his right hand. </p><p>      He’d completely zoned out, eyelids lightly falling shut as he gazed sightlessly outside the square paned window above his desk which illuminated the room in a dull dusk light. </p><p>      Florice’s thoughts moved sluggishly, even as the final light of the day slowly slipped by, moving the room even closer into pitch-blackness. Thoughts of the day’s encounter with the bounty hunter vaguely surfaced, flitting across his thoughts and causing a slight strain of worry. </p><p>     After what felt like hours, he finally mustered the will to raise his head. Eyes snapping open he sat forwards as logical thoughts returned. He glanced down at the open journal before him. A few half-finished scribbles lay across the page, nearly indiscernible in the dim fading light. </p><p>
  <em>      I ought to finish these tonight. Time to light the lantern.  </em>
</p><p>     Florice reached over towards the tin box that contained the unlight candle. As he moved the bedroom door suddenly swung open behind him and slammed against the back leg of his chair. Caught on unawares he uttered a yelp of surprise and flinched, knees colliding with the underside of the desk causing the objects on the surface to jump. </p><p>      He paled, scrambling upright from his stool and leaping out from behind the desk into the center of the room, whirling around to face the intruder. Eyes wide, a stab of fear jolted through his chest as flashes of the bounty hunter and worst possible scenarios shot through his mind. His heart staggered in a panicked manner. Was the bounty hunter here? Had he found–</p><p>      The doctor’s panicked gaze found the mask’s pale grinning expression greeting him from the open doorway. </p><p>     He blinked, shoulders sagging as he recognized the familiar face. Exhaling a relieved breath he straightened up, startled expression returning to neutral stone. The mask chuckled, black ooze dribbling from her lips as she strode into the room. </p><p>      “Sorry, did I startle you?” </p><p>      “A bit,” Florice muttered breezily, eyeing the mask. She stopped short of the doctor. </p><p>      “Still worried about that bounty hunter, huh?” The mask asked innocently, black ooze dribbling from the corner of her eye. </p><p>      “...It doesn’t hurt to be wary,” Florice muttered a response, rubbing his wrist. </p><p>      “Of course it does! You can’t relax <em> or </em>have fun when you’re all tensed up and wary. Lucky for you, I’ve got something to fix that stiff attitude of yours tonight! No more work for an entire night, we’re gonna go have some fun!”</p><p>      Florice shook his head as he immediately put together what the mask was hinting at. </p><p>      “No I will not–”</p><p>      “Yes you will! It’s ball time!” She interrupted, speaking over the doctor and rubbing her hands together in glee. </p><p>     “Alright, listen up, doc! Here’s the plan,” the mask began excitedly. </p><p>     “I’ve already figured out how I’m gonna get in. You don’t have to worry about the details since you don’t have to do anything. All you need to do is meet me at the main gates–we’ve walked past them before, y’know what they look like, right?”</p><p>      Florice begrudgingly nodded as he recalled the high iron fence encompassing the large estate situated off a short private road branching off from the clock tower plaza. </p><p>     The mask beamed excitedly and began to inch backwards, bouncing on her toes. </p><p>     “Great! Find something to wear other than those dull robes of yours and be at the gates within the next hour,” the mask proclaimed, stepping backwards, the heel of her foot in the threshold of the doorway. Florice frowned. </p><p>     “I’m still not certain I want to partake in this…” he mused undecidedly. The mask stepped backwards over the threshold before resting her hand on the doorframe. </p><p>     “Remember, wear something nice–oh! Also, bring your mask. I’ve gotta get going! I’ll see you at the gates, doc!” She exclaimed with a salute. Florice frowned, taking a step forwards. </p><p>    “Wait, no I’m not going to–oh...dear...” Florice grimaced as the mask suddenly whirled on her heel and promptly dashed from the doorway into the short, upper tavern hallway. She disappeared around the nearest corner and Florice could faintly make out her rapid footsteps falling down the stairway and fading from earshot.</p><p>     Florice stood frozen for a moment as his brain caught up processing their conversation. Then he threw up a hand and shook his head with an irritable huff at the mask’s abrupt exit. He shuffled over to the door and swung it closed before spinning around an pacing across the floor of the bedroom, idly rubbing his chin. </p><p>     He sighed as the realization hit him that he <em> had </em> to turn up at the gates now. The mask would be fine for the most part, Florice had no doubt about that. However, she had a knack for finding (and/or causing) trouble in public spaces. He was certain she would stumble into some sort of trouble sometime during this little excursion she had planned. </p><p>     Florice rubbed his temples in frustration. Now he was inclined to do as the mask instructed and attend the masquerade party since, unfortunately, he did care for her which led him to the decision of attending this silly thing. Yes...he would go to simply be present in order to keep her away from trouble and to keep her from <em> causing </em> trouble which could potentially put innocent citizens in harm’s way. </p><p>      Well...then again...they would be rich citizens so perhaps that wasn’t as important. They would be completely fine. Money could buy fine doctors and replacements for practically anything. Florice was more worried about potentially angering any sort of nobles and prompting any more warrant posters. </p><p>      He sighed. </p><p>      This whole ordeal inevitably wouldn’t be such a ‘relaxing break from work’ as the mask had spun it. However, the doctor had begrudgingly made up his mind. He turned to his desk and flipped his journal shut before reaching down and grabbing his doctor’s bag from under the desk. He placed the bag on the stool and tucked away his journal work and studies for the night before plunging his hands into the bag’s depths, rummaging around to find any spare clothes. </p><p>      After all, he most certainly wouldn’t get anywhere near that estate in his dark weathered and dirtied doctor’s robes. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Heyyyyyy so ummm,,,, post schedules gonna be funky and uneven from now on because of school. I'm planning to finish this series by December-January tho, thats my goal. We'll see how that goes...i might not be able to finish by then,,,especially since the total number of fics in this series is gonna be 11 instead of 10</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>      The doctor lingered across the street in the shadows of dim evening light. Through the tinted eyes of his leather plague mask, he eyed the commotion before him. On the other side of the road lay the high iron gate barring off entry to the lands of the estate beyond. The perimeter of the previously mentioned land beyond was ringed in neatly trimmed hedges and a tall iron fence. Set far back beyond the fence and stretching lands sat the enormous marble manor with the smattering of windows across the front glowing yellow with candlelight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     Turning his attention back to the road, Florice idly observed the two guards positioned on either side of the tall iron gate. They were clad in sophisticated red uniforms and a thin, sheathed sword hung at each of their hips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     Occasionally, a chattering pair or group of persons dressed in elaborate garments would approach from the street. The guards would move forward and engage in conversation with each party. Florice watched as some were refused and turned away while others were permitted entry beyond the gate. The iron hinges of the gate would let out a loud, piercing squeal each time the guards stepped aside and pulled open the heavy fence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>A flicker of worry crossed Florice’s mind as he observed yet another wagon’s spoked wheels roll to a halt at the gates in order to let off a woman and a man each dressed in a fine assortment of fabrics. He wasn’t entirely certain he would be successful in passing the guards without mask’s help–whatever form ‘help’ that may take. Speaking of, what exactly </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> the mask’s ‘master plan’ in all this? </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Well, Florice hadn’t the faintest clue. The mask had helpfully neglected to relay that sort of crucial information. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>A chilly breeze ruffled the doctor’s loose clothes. Glancing down at his attire, he idly picked at a loose thread. He had done a considerable number on himself and completely changed from his plain robes into the clothes he’d found floating around somewhere in the depths of his bag. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>      From the aforementioned bag, he’d discovered an (peculiarly nice) plain black ruffled shirt with loose sleeves that stretched down to his wrists. His pale hands remained concealed by the elbow-length gloves Florice seldom ever removed. Around his waist was a proper belt as opposed to the thin cord he preferred to use on the daily. The belt held up a black pair of slacks with ruffled fabric at the ends of his pant legs that hung loose around the ankles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>The black set of clothes were in abnormally pristine condition. Florice was fairly certain that without too much trouble he could pass for someone with at least a little money. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     At the moment, everything seemed in perfect order and the doctor optimistically persuaded himself that this whole ordeal would turn out fine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>As Florice internally reassured himself, his eyes darted across the street to observe the guards turn away yet another set of persons at the gate. Feeling jittery, the doctor shook out his arms, shifting from one booted foot to another and tried to mute his more irrational, fear-driven thoughts, ie. (What if they ask me to remove my mask and I’m recognized from a warrant poster?). He sucked in a deep breath, inhaling the stingingly strong scent of lavender from within his mask and forced an exhale as he straightened up, brushing out his sleeves. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>This would go perfectly fine. He was an excellent diplomat, he could easily talk himself from a situation if needed. There was no present threatening issue. The worst case scenario that could happen would be the guards turning him away on sight, that was all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Florice glanced around the darkened street, eyeing the bushes and wagons approaching as time ticked on. He hadn’t caught sight of the mask even once in the entire evening. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>What is she up to? </span>
  </em>
  <span>He pondered, staring up into the cloudy night sky. He glanced back down and gazed across the road towards the gate. The two guards were milling about now and chatting between each other. They were relaxing as a break had formed in the flow of people approaching the estate. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Florice determined now would be the best time to step over and ask the guards about entry. Since the mask was nowhere to be found, the doctor decided he’d take matters into his own hands and attempt to pass the gate himself. Who knew? Perhaps the mask was already inside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>The doctor stepped out from the shadows of the road’s edge. Cool night air ruffled his hair as he wordlessly crossed the street, his heels padding quietly across the cobblestones. Drawing near to the two guards stationed outside the iron gate he observed that one was significantly taller than the other. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Hesitance tugged at his feet when the guards noticed him. They straightened up at his approach, moving to block his way to the gate. He’d crossed the street, now standing on the edge of a neatly lined dirt path. The path wound from the cobblestone street to underneath the iron gate and stretched out to the courtyard beyond the fence leading all the way up to the manor. Past the fence Florice could make out candles lining the pathway winding through an assortment of neat hedges and from the looks of it, several marble pillars. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     Oh yes, most definitely a rich man’s lawn. Notably identified by the useless decorations strewn across the wide privately owned land. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     Forcing down a well of worry, Florice stopped short of the two guards just before the gate. He raised a friendly hand in greeting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Good evening gentlemen,” he started pleasantly, voice slightly muffled by the mask strapped to his face. The guards glanced at each other before the taller of the two guards stepped forwards. His face remained expressionless as he addressed the doctor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “What is your business here?” He asked bluntly, speaking with an icy tone that matched his cool expression. Florice’s friendly gesture faltered and he quickly clasped his hands together before him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “I’m here for the masquerade event,” he clarified, dipping his head. The taller guard squinted at him suspiciously before glancing over at his shorter counterpart who’d wandered up to stand beside him. The two men eyed the doctor curiously. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “We don’t recognize you from around here,” the shorter guard piped up, quizzically peering at the plague doctor with squinty eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>   Florice managed out a good-natured chuckle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Yes well...the point of a masquerade is anonymity, is it not?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “True. However, I recognize everyone who goes through these gates but I  haven’t seen you around here before,” the taller guard started suspiciously. He crossed his arms, head tilting sideways as he sized up the doctor. Florice's mind raced to form a passable response. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Yes, I’m not from around here. I am only visiting this city for a short while,” Florice explained patiently. Being the truth, that particular line passed from his lips with ease.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “People don’t usually show up here alone,” the shorter guard interjected, raising a hand to rub his stubbled chin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “I’m...not alone,” Florice countered slowly. He blinked, quickly racked his brain for an excuse to cover for himself. “...I’m meeting an acquaintance here, they’re going to...bring me in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     The doctor fidgeted nervously, flexing his fingers. His thoughts raced as nervousness flooded through his body. He shifted on his feet uncomfortably as the guards stared at him blankly, expecting further explanation. Florice paid their stares no mind. He was too preoccupied with his worries. The fact that there was no guarantee when the mask would show up was making him anxious. All she’d said was that she’d be at the gates to let him in. There was no certain telling </span>
  <em>
    <span>when</span>
  </em>
  <span> she’d bother to show her face and the unfriendly suspicious looks the guards were giving Florice had begun to make his skin crawl. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     He supposed he’d just have to trust the mask’s word and hope she’d appear soon. The two guards barring his entry glanced at each other. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “So, who is this ‘acquaintance’ of yours? ” The taller guard questioned warily, raising a skeptical eyebrow. Florice glanced up, processing the guard’s words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “My acquaintance? Ah, yes well...they’re uh…–” Florice paused, turning around to glance both ways up and down the empty street behind him. “–not here yet, apparently…” he chuckled, scratching the leather beak of his mask with one gloved finger. The two guards were not amused. The shorter guard’s brows furrowed in annoyance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>      “Just give us a name and make it snappy. We’ve more important matters to attend to tonight other than some lone commonfolk attempting to infiltrate–” the short guard’s irate bark was cut short as a sudden </span>
  <em>
    <span>whoosh </span>
  </em>
  <span>cut through the air. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     Florice stumbled back just in time as the bars of heavy iron gate swung into the guards from behind, knocking them forwards. The shorter one went tumbling to the ground and landed near the doctor’s boots while his counterpart swore loudly, staggering forwards and letting out a string of agonized curses as the gate smashed into his back. His hand shot down to the hilt of his sword at his belt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     The doctor stole another step backwards as the short guard at his boots hastily scrambled upright from the ground, crisp red uniform now stained with dirt. He staggered to his feet and whirled around to face the assailant that had materialized from behind. He stepped forward, standing beside the taller guard. In unison the two half unsheathed their glinting swords and tensed, at the ready.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     The faint creak of metal hinges cut through the clear night air as the iron gate swung to a half, flung wide open by a third party who’d rudely interrupted the conversation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Whoopsies! My hand must have slipped–oh dear, good evening gentlemen!” A cheerful warbling tone sounded from behind the guards. Florice lifted his gaze to stare beyond the open fence. There, in the gateway stood a familiar, very smug porcelain expression all his glory. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    The mask’s hands sat on his hips as he strolled forwards. The thin rivulets of ooze dripping from his eyes were nearly indiscernible under the dim light of the cloudy sky. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     The two guards immediately snapped to attention at the mask’s approach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Put those things away,” the mask scolded, stopping short and waving a hand at the guards. In unison, they snapped their hilts down to a close, sheathing the blades. Then they stiffened, standing impossibly straight, arms stiffly locked at their sides. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Sir.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Sir.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     Florice blinked in confusion, taken back as both guards stood dutifully at attention on the mask’s word.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Ah, is that you there, dear?” The mask peered past the two saluting guards and addressed Florice, waving an excited hand. The doctor glanced from the two guards over at his counterpart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Er...yes,” Florice cleared his throat and eyed the mask’s new appearance. He was hoping to piece together reasoning for the guard’s bizarre behavior towards the mask. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>      The mask was significantly taller than his former host although still a considerable few inches shorter than the doctor. He was dressed to the nines in startlingly magnificent fabrics. His attire consisted of a red button vest emblazoned with various golden patterns and buttons. Around his shoulders was a ruby overcoat that hung down to his knees, decorated in a similar fashion to the vest. He wore plain black pants with sturdy boots. A white cravat was wrapped around his neck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     Well, one thing was certain. This was definitely an upgrade from his last host. The mask was very clearly dressed in elaborate rich fabrics. Florice could only draw the conclusion he’d managed to pick up a host with a substantially large amount of money. The doctor couldn’t yet judge whether this was a good thing, or a bad thing. The mask addressed the guards once more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “So, what’s goin’ on? Is there an issue here, gentlemen?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Just doing our duty, sir. Getting citizens to move along,” the shorter guard spoke up, dipping his head respectfully. The mask tapped his chin with a black fingernail. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Hmm? Ah, that’s no way to treat a guest!” He waved a hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Especially since I invited him personally,” the mask scolded, tipping forwards down to meet the short guard’s eye level. His unnervingly dark gaze bored straight through the man. The guard shifted uncomfortably under the mask’s blank stare. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>      “We’re so sorry, sir, you have our apologies, we weren't aware. Please forgive us,” the taller guard spoke up, lowering his head in shame. The mask straightened up and turned, studying him for a moment. His gaze then flickered across both guards as he presumably debated on whether he should inflict violent punishment or simply send the two men on their way. Mercifully, the mask decided the latter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>      “Honestly I don’t care and I don’t want to hear excuses. Return to your duty,” The mask waved them off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>      “Yes, sir,” they droned in unison. Straightening up at the mask’s word, they returned to their stations on either side of the gate and took up an attentive stance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>      The mask heaved a dramatic sigh and muttered something along the line of ‘unnecessary inconveniences’ before he suddenly remembered the doctor’s existence. Instantly, he brightened up, spinning around towards Florice and extending a palm in invitation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Come on! The fun’s inside,” he beckoned. Florice stepped forwards, eyeing the guards in his peripherals as he swept past, stepping up to the mask standing in the gateway. As Florice strode up beside him, the mask stuck out an expectant elbow. The doctor paused for a moment, eyeing the mask’s invitation. At his hesitance the mask glanced over, eyeing him with what could only be presumed as light exasperation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Are you seriously going to leave me hanging?” He asked drily. Florice sighed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “This is unnecessary.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    He then reluctantly linked his arm with the mask’s who in turn, brightly stepped off down the dirt path, tugging the doctor along. Florice struggled to match the mask’s shorter pace. Behind them sounded the quiet creak of the iron gate hinges coming to a close. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     The two strolled arm-in-arm through the courtyard along the dirt pathway winding all the way up to the massive mansion located at the far end of the courtyard. The windows scattered across the first and second floors were flooded with golden light. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     Florice eyed their surroundings as they ambled along, noting the maze of hedges that seemed to crawl infinitely on either side of the pathway. Candles lined the main path leading up to the building steps. Other narrow pathways branched off from the main footpath. Those lead into short dead ends that lead nowhere in particular aside from the odd stone birdbath or marble column. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>      “Do you mind telling me who you’ve taken as a host tonight? I’m curious,” the doctor asked nonchalantly, glancing at his companion. He wanted to know why the guards had been under the mask’s control. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Oh, right! I never really detailed my plan to you, did I? Huh, well anyways. Long story short, this is the eldest son of the Lord who lives in this place,” the mask grinned proudly, gesturing at the large manor before them as they drew closer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>      Sudden shock rushed through the doctor’s head. He came to an abrupt stop, digging his heels into the dirt and forcing the mask to halt beside him. Glaring down at his companion, he could barely contain his outrage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?</span>
  </em>
  <span>“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “I got the best host available around these parts,” the mask proclaimed brightly, peering innocently into the doctor’s wide-eyed gaze beneath the tinted lenses of his plague mask. “Why are we stopping?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>      “How many times do I have to tell you–you can’t go around picking up people who’ll be noticed once they go missing!” Florice hissed, glaring heatedly at the mask. They failed to take the doctor seriously and waved a dismissive hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>      “Ah, it's fine. It's just for one night anyways–”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “No it's not fine! The Lord’s son is already dead! When he’s not found tomorrow, the family here will most certainly send someone after </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> since I’ll be the last one you–the son–were seen around,” Florice argued furiously, dislodging his arm from the mask’s. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     He scowled at his unbothered counterpart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>      The mask shrugged. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “And that’s fine since I’ll be there to protect you, doc,” the mask threw up a casual hand and resumed walking without warning. Florice hurried to step beside him, his boots scuffing up dust. He was still slightly disgruntled, even as he sucked in a deep breath and exhaled to cool off his nerves. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Look–” he began, his voice returning to a pleasantly neutral tone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “–I’m just looking out for our safety so nothing happens to either of us,” he explained patiently, side-eyeing the mask as the two strolled along the footpath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Nothing bad will happen to me! Or you, if that's what you're worried about. Look, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m part of the Lord’s family at the moment–I've got influence here and I can do anything I want! And I can make everyone else do what I want,” the mask reached over and laid an oozing hand on Florice’s tense shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Just relax. We’ll be fine, I guarantee it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>      Florice sighed darkly, crossing his arms as the two continued and approached the bottom of the doorsteps leading to the front door of the mansion. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “You’d better be right about that,” he muttered gravely. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “That’s the spirit!” The mask exclaimed brightly, vigorously patting Florice’s shoulder as the two set foot up the first set of stairs.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Now, let’s go enjoy a nice evening!” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hiiiiiiii sory about the updates being all over the place<br/>Finished the rough draft for this whole fic. Also finished all 7 chapters of the next fic and one chapter of the fic after that. Still got a fuck ton more to go wooo woooooo</p>
<p>For some reason my future chapters have been leaning into 6k-8k words so um....that is why it takes me so long to update.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
  <span>Side by side, the mask and the doctor reached the mansion’s front entrance; a set of double oak doors about nine feet tall. Florice paused for a moment, staring up at the doors with slight apprehension beneath his leather mask. The mask’s hand was already closing around the knob when he glanced back over his shoulder. Florice’s gaze snapped down as he noticed the mask’s stare fixed on him. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Loosen up, doc, you’ll be fine. Come on,” the mask spread his other hand in an open-palmed gesture toward Florice. Florice sighed, begrudgingly stepping forwards to stand beside his companion. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “If we find ourselves in any sort of trouble, it is your fault.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     The mask beamed, black sludge rolling down his cheeks as his fingers settled back down onto Florice’s shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “How could you ever say something like that!” He gasped in mocking astonishment, snickering at the doctor’s cool, unamused gaze boring into him. His attention quickly snapped back around to the door as he twisted the handle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Well now, let’s get inside where all the rich people are. After all, that’s where the party is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>----------</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     The atmosphere of the mansion beyond the door was quite overwhelming. A noisy, nearly deafening chatter rose from a massive crowd of people meandering about the foyer, all chittering amongst themselves. Florice could barely comprehend the complexity of surroundings. His eyes were unable to dart around the interior fast enough in order to take in all key details throughout the entire venue at once. It was  especially difficult beneath the tinted lenses of his leather mask. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     Both the mask and the doctor stood on a slightly raised landing on the outskirts of the crowd. The foyer was massive–the ceiling stretching far, far above their heads. Enormous chandeliers hung from said ceiling, each fitted with a dizzying number of candles. Ringing the entirety of the arched walls encompassing the main hall were hundreds of silver candle-holders all aflame. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     Filling the main hall was a sea of people, all assorted in various glittering fabrics and bedazzled masks. The masks were fashioned in quite the variety of structure and design. From the crowd, Florice even picked out a few particular familiar mask shapes that would have been worn in Alagadda. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    Towards the left end of the foyer was an assortment of various corridors branching off from the main hall, presumably leading deeper into the enormous mansion’s interior. Situated at the very end of the foyer was an elevated balcony with golden rails and a trio of considerably large chairs positioned on the platform. The chairs were no ordinary stools, they were thrones fitted with the typical red and rich gold colors.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     Complete and utter overkill, in Florice’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>humble</span>
  </em>
  <span> opinion. There was no logical reasoning or possible excuse that could justify such riches being wasted on something as simple as a chair. If you were in possession of </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>much wealth, you ought to put the money where it could prove useful. Not waste such treasure on a </span>
  <em>
    <span>chair</span>
  </em>
  <span>–</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     Underneath the balcony was a series of musicians, idly chatting amongst each other as their instruments lay at rest beside them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Impressed?” The mask’s voice sounded from beside Florice. He glanced over at his companion. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “No, not exactly,” he answered coolly. The mask chuckled, waving a loose hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Good! Because this is trash compared to the palace back home,” he observed jovially, enthusiastically patting Florice’s right shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “I was never impressed by your palaces back in Alagadda either. It’s an awful waste of resources,” Florice offered airily, paying no heed to the mask and glancing away down the other end of the foyer. Beneath his leather mask a smug grin tugged at his lips as he felt the mask falter beside him. Then, almost instantaneously, the mask snapped up, bristling as he took offense. His left hand slipped off the doctor’s shoulder and fell to his hip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Rude. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Its class, doc. Class. Not that your mortal mind could ever even begin to comprehend–”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “I comprehend perfectly well, thank you very much. Now, what exactly are your plans here? There’s quite an attendance, so many people,” Florice trailed off, his gaze shifting back to the thick crowd of people milling about the foyer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    The mask’s demeanor shifted instantly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “The plan’s to go have fun. Chat with the other guests, wait for the musicians to start playing, go dance,” he waved his free hand, gesturing at the crowd while his left hand settled back onto Florice’s right shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “Come along now, doc! We stand out up here, let’s go blend in,” his grip on the doctor’s shoulder firmly tightened as he steered Florice forwards. The doctor followed his lead and the two stepped down, entering the glittering crowd. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    The doctor was pulled through the crowd as the pair managed to weave their way across the foyer. Florice lost track of the mask’s fingers digging into his shoulder as his attention was drawn to the overwhelming sea of rich fabrics pressing up around him. He was painfully hyper-aware of his surroundings and quite skittish on his toes as he ducked away from loose arms or hopped away from rippling skirts brushing the ground. He was paying extra care to the destination of his feet to ensure he didn’t accidentally bump into any of these particularly wealthy guests out of fear of angering someone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    At last, the two broke free of the thick of the crowd and reached the other side of the foyer, where the density was much sparser. A few number of men and women lingered near the arched walls lined with torches, chatting amongst themselves away from the worst of the crowd. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     Relief lifted Florice’s shoulders. He shrugged off the mask’s hand, grateful to be away from the thick mass of bodies all mingling in the center of the main hall. He moved over to the wall, crossing his arms and leaning against an arch under a flickering torch in order to casually survey the crowd before him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     The mask followed suit and came to stand beside him at his left. His hands rested on his hips as he faced the doctor. Black sludge stained the collar of his host's ruby vest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “I'm assuming this is where you’ll stay for the whole party,” the mask stated drily. Florice nodded, shrugging. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “More or less. I don’t fare well with crowds.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “I’ll never get that. The crowds are the best place to be–where all the life is, where all the entertainment happens–”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Where trouble is found,” Florice added darkly. The mask huffed an exaggerated sigh, flicking away a rivulet of black cascading down his cheek.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “You worry too much. You’ll never be able to have fun or really </span>
  <em>
    <span>live </span>
  </em>
  <span>if you’re worried and working all the time!” The mask chasticized, bathing the doctor in an indignant, scrutinizing gaze. Florice dismissively waved a gloved hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Well, clearly I don’t work </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> the time since I’m present right here in this mansion which is incredible in and of itself. Actually, as a matter of fact, this is as far into this… ‘party’ I’ll be going.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “We’ll see about that, mister,” the mask challenged, rocking on his toes as he waggled a finger in Florice’s direction. Florice remained silent and crossed his ankles, leaning further against the wall. His gaze fixated directly ahead, glowering at the tide of people sweeping the main hall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Oh look–there’s the lord,” the mask suddenly straightened up, jerking his porcelain expression sideways. Florice followed his gesture, glancing up toward the balcony now at the right end of the foyer. There, the three chairs perched on the second level were no longer empty. Two were respectively filled by a man and woman. Ah, the lord and his wife. The third chair situated to the right was still yet to be filled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Yeah, that’s my cue to go,” the mask chirped up from beside the doctor. Florice glanced back over at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “You’re leaving me here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Oh don’t worry yourself, dear–” the mask reached over, brightly patting the edge of the doctor’s leather beak in reassurance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “I’ll be back later. I’ve got to go fulfill my role of the lord’s son for a few minutes, that’s all. Then I’ll come find you again.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Alright, alright, go on,” Florice urged drily, batting the mask’s hand away from his beak. The mask beamed, feet dancing backwards as he edged towards the crowd. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “See you soon!” He gave the doctor a fleeting wave before spinning on a heel, the tag ends of his coattail dangling around his legs as he entered the sea of people and promptly disappeared into the fray. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     Florice sighed, pushing off the wall. His arms fell to his sides as he glanced sideways, his gaze traveling over the room. Coming to a conclusion, he decided the best course of action would be to take a small stroll, just to survey the rest of the foyer. A nice, sparse population of guests  mingled about here, on the outskirts of the crowd by the walls. For Florice, this made the act of wandering about much easier and more calm as there was no reason to fear accidentally disturbing anyone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    Glancing to his immediate left Florice noted the path off leftwards was much less populated then the right, so he stepped off and casually began to amble in that direction. He surveyed his surroundings, noting the corridors and stairwell branching off from the edges of the main room. He passed several nobles whose choice of clothing had ensnared his attention. Volto masks all with delicately painted lips and an assortment of feathers. Red, yellow, black...and thankfully some blue. The porcelain masks were too similarly fashioned compared to </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> particular unearthly city for Florice’s liking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     He meandered about the hall for several minutes, the collective chatter that echoed about the foyer drowning out his senses. The atmosphere was quite warm both visually and temperature wise. Florice ended up rolling back his dark sleeves, exposing the ring of pale skin that ran between his clothes and his leather gloves. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    The doctor hadn’t been ambling about the hall for more than a few minutes before the deafening clanging of a bell suddenly echoed throughout the high-ceilinged room. Florice’s feet fell to a halt as he paused along the edges of the crowd and glanced upward towards the source of the noise. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    The chatter which was echoing loudly throughout the foyer quickly ceased, the main hall falling into hearty silence, There was an audible swishing of fabrics as the masked guests milling about the hall all turned to face the balcony at the end of the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     There, the lord stood before his throne, hands balanced on the gold railing of the balcony. To his left sat his wife in a thick purple gown and to his right sat his son, wearing a pale grinning mask with black sludge dripping madly from his facial orifices. He was clearly enjoying himself, lounging sideways on the chair, legs kicking over the gold armrest as his stark white cheek rested atop his knuckles. The mask seemed to be surveying the crowd, presumably searching for the doctor who blended in seamlessly with the rest of the masked guests. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     A twinge of mild amusement struck the doctor. No one had noticed the obvious peculiarity regarding the lord’s son. Nobody on that balcony paid any mind to the rivulets of black ooze running down the gold chair legs and dripping into small puddles about the feet of the right-hand throne. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     As the lord raised a hand with a beaming grin, he began to speak, addressing the guests assembled below with a voice that echoed throughout the entire foyer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>      Right from the very first word that passed his lips, his speech fell on the doctor’s deaf ears. Florice had absolutely zero desire to listen to the ramblings of a rich noble sucking up to the sea of wealthy guests and acquaintances he’d invited. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>      Especially one who was so particularly thick headed he’d wasted wealth on something so unimportant as a chair. As the lord continued to drone on, (some nonsense detailing how delighted he was that all the other rich men in this city-state had attended) the doctor leaned back against the wall and crossed his ankles, folding his arms across his chest. The lord continued to speak to the crowd and Florice found himself desperately wishing he were anywhere but here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     He began to idly count the seconds as the lord continued to recite his speech.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     This continued for several minutes and Florice’s eyes glazed over beneath his leather mask as he was forced to listen to the remainder of the man’s dull speech. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     At last, Florice was </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally</span>
  </em>
  <span> snapped out of his dazed stupor when those god-awful clangs of the bell sounded once more, marking the conclusion of the lord’s speech. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     He hadn’t caught the lord’s final words, so he was struck with a tinge of confusion as the sea of people before him suddenly began moving in a disorganized mess all at once, the deafening chatter of voices rising from the crowd returning to echo throughout the massive hall.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     Leaning against the wall, his eyes darted across the crowd shifting about the foyer. Fabrics swishing, the sea of people had moved outwards, forming a massive, discernible ring in the center of the main hall. The tiles of the floor were revealed as the empty circle formed inside the ring of people. Then, dozens of richly dressed people moved in pairs and stepped forwards to fill the available space in the center. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     The sweet sound of plucked strings sounded to the left and Florice glanced sideways. He noted the musicians stationed down the hall now holding their assortment of instruments and tuning their notes against each other, in preparation to play. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>     Ah. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     Then it clicked in Florice’s head. This was a masquerade </span>
  <em>
    <span>ball </span>
  </em>
  <span>wasn’t it?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     He breathed a heavy muffled sigh from within his mask. Sagging further back against the wall, he glowered at the people standing around the edges of the ring. This whole venue was about to get much more lively, much more chaotic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     Florice’s fingers drummed against his sleeve. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    In a matter of seconds the musicians under the balcony picked up a melody, the strings strumming a rather upbeat tune. As the instruments began to sing, Florice observed the partnered people gathered in the center of the circle begin to move, skirts and coattails swishing as their feet moved in a rhythmic pattern following the tempo of the musicians’ tune. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>      Florice had to admit, the flashy expensive fabrics and glittering masks all whirling around together was quite a sight to behold. He couldn’t quite draw his eyes away from the entrancing action. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     He stood silently at the edges of the crowd for a few minutes, gaze lost in the sea of shiny fabrics. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Like what you see?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     Blackened fingers dug into Florice’s shoulder from the side and he flinched, startled as a bolt of surprise jolted through his veins. Whirling around he came face to face with the mask’s porcelain grin. The tip of Florice’s beak nearly smacked the mask’s nose. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     A hearty chuckle fell from the mask’s lips as black sludge streamed down the front of his ruby vest. With a gloved hand Florice brushed the mask’s fingers from his shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Well...I wouldn’t exactly use ‘like’ to describe it,” he replied gruffly. The mask’s grin widened as he leaned against the wall beside the doctor. After propping up an elbow against it, he crossed his legs and smugly faced Florice, knuckles of his hand balancing against his porcelain cheek. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Yeah you’d call it ‘fun’, right? 'Cause I know I’m having a great time!” The mask’s shoulders shook as he laughed, black sludge splattering against the tile floor. He glanced back up to meet the doctor’s masked gaze and his expression fell sideways. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “So, you having any fun yet, doc?” The mask raised a figurative eyebrow. Florice relaxed in the mask’s presence, arms falling to his side. He decided to answer truthfully. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “It's...alright. It’s a different scene than one I’d usually see in the city,” the doctor glanced back towards the crowd. He vaguely gestured with a gloved hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Everyone here is so...lively…” he offered ambiguously. The mask let out an indignant scoff. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>      “Yeah, everyone except you. You’re over here all mister ‘mysterious dark and brooding’,” the mask pushed away from the wall and wheeled around to stand directly in front the doctor, wringing his hands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “It's ridiculous. Join in on the fun for once!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Public gatherings are not my idea of fun.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Well, now they’re going to be,” the mask puffed out his chest, glaring up at the doctor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “I’m not so certain about that…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Have you even ever been to a ball before?” The mask exclaimed indignantly. Florice blinked, taken back by the sudden outburst.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Well...no...not exactly–”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Then you’ve got zero idea if it's fun or not!” The mask waved his arms about as he continued. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “But lucky for you, I know what they’re like and I can tell you right now–they’re fun!” His hands settled on his hips and he tipped forwards on his toes. The tip of his porcelain nose lightly bumped the tip of the doctor’s leather beak. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     Florice remained silent beneath his plague mask as he gazed at the mask standing before him, mere inches away. Then he glanced away from the mask’s intense gaze boring into his and crossed his arms, shifting uncertainly on his booted feet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     The mask’s expression jerked sideways, tilting his black grin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “Aw, come on, doc, no need to be shy...” he chided teasingly, spreading his blackened palms. Florice’s gaze snapped back down to the mask. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “I’m not. I simply do not wish to participate in such–” Florice’s sharp retort was cut short as the mask abruptly cut in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Oh! Wait, I know what’s up with you!” He abruptly exclaimed, chuckling smugly. His porcelain features suddenly contorted, brows knit together in mocking anguish. He shuddered, clasping his hands together as he leaned forwards. Florice leaned backwards, coolly eyeing the oozing mask before him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Now what is that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Hasn’t anyone asked you to dance?” The mask questioned. Florice paused, brows furrowing in confusion beneath his leather mask. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “What are you on about?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    At the doctor’s words the mask gasped in mock horror, one hand flying to his forehead while the other settled on his chest. In dramaticized astonishment his porcelain features jerked upwards. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Oh, its tragic!” He wailed. Then his gaze snapped down and he stared intensely at Florice, the upset frown still painted across his expression. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “You mean to tell me, no one has invited that handsome mug to the floor?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Uh–” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Aw poor you,” the mask reached out with a dripping hand. His fingers traced the underside edges of the doctor’s beak tip leaving a trace smudge of black.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>      For a split second the doctor forgot about his surroundings and the overwhelming presence of the crowd. For some reason the mask’s familiar antics made him feel...oddly comforted. If ‘comfort’ was the correct way to describe the warm feeling blossoming in his chest as the mask gazed at him, his fingers playfully brushing the doctor’s thick leather mask. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     The mask’s loud warbling tone dropped to a near hum as his porcelain expression reverted to a pleasant grin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “I guess little old me will have to fix that,” he declared, expression tilting sideways as his touch left the edge of the doctor’s mask and fell back down to his side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     The mask stole a half step backward before sweeping his hand forward in what appeared to be a mock bow until the doctor realized the mask’s outstretched palm was an open invitation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>      “Come dance with me, doctor?” The mask offered coyly, glancing up at Florice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>      Florice studied his blackened hand intently. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>      “I’m not certain…” he mused, weighing the options internally. He was most certainly not a fan of the lively crowd across the foyer moving about the floor. Too many people, too crowded, the possibility of trouble was terribly high…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Can’t you let loose once in a while? This is one night, just one. It’ll be fun! You don’t have to worry about anyone else, you won’t even notice the crowd, it’ll be just us, trust me,” the mask urged, his fingers widely outstretched. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     Admittedly, the mask had a fair point. This was only a single night. Perhaps…”letting loose” wasn’t a terrible idea. Besides, the doctor bore a mask, nobody could discern his identity. In a certain special way on this night in this manor, he could do as he pleased without feeling overwhelming guilt about abandoning his work for an evening. At the moment, he could be an entirely different person, that was why. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     Yes, perhaps this could be nice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     With one gloved hand, he reached out to take the mask’s palm but hesitated at the last moment, drawing his hand back as worry flooded his mind. His palm hovered inches above the invitation. His fingers curled on empty air. He glanced over past the mask’s shoulder, eyeing the noisy crowd behind him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “There’s...a lot of people...” he observed with an uncertain note. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “That’s just the fun of it, doc!” The mask’s warbling tone was riddled with a note of exasperation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Now, I don’t want to hear any more excuses out of you. You’re coming with me!” he declared furiously with a wide grin. In a flash, Florice found the mask’s hand curled in a tight grasp around his. He blinked, surprised. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Wait a moment–”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Nope!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     As the mask whirled around, his vice-like grip on Florice’s hand forcefully yanked the doctor along. The mask stalked towards the crowd, merrily dragging the half-willing doctor along with him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “Ow ow ow–please don't crush my fingers–those are important–I need those–  –” Florice hissed, half tripping over his own feet before regaining his balance and hastily stepping up to match the mask’s quick strides. The mask’s grip on his gloved hand slightly loosened, but he continued to forcefully urge the doctor along with him as they entered the fray.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     The mask pushed his way through the crowded sea of endless fabrics and painted faces, Florice following in his wake. The doctor was barely able to keep himself from accidentally trodding on any trains of fabric brushing the floor.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     At last, they burst through the ring of people and Florice felt as though he was able to breath again. He let out a relieved sigh before noticing that he and the mask were standing in the cleared center of the circle. Dozens of waltzing partners swept around the area, following the upbeat tempo from the musicians down the foyer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     Slight unease befell him as his eyes darted around, following the whirling swishes of fabric all over the room. Several were swaying nearby, a bit too close for Florice’s liking. He inched away as a man’s fluttering coattails lightly brushed him on the way by. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     “So, doctor…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>     Florice’s attention jerked back over to the mask standing before him. Ooze dribbled from the corners of his eyes. The mask raised his hand, bringing along the doctor’s gloved fingers still clutched in his grasp. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>      “...May I have this dance?”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>gay people (1/2)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
  <span>As the mask’s question fell from his lips, Florice considered his words for a moment, gazing down at the mask who was clutching his gloved hand. Florice was here, he’d made it all the way out here onto the dancing floor entwined with the mask so closely, he could practically feel the heat waves radiating off the host’s body. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The time to move was now or never. This was the doctor’s one chance to ‘let loose’ and enjoy some quality time with his friend this fine evening. Florice reasoned that he was already here in the middle of the foyer and there was no point in wasting time by getting cold feet now.  </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Yes, yes you may,” Florice replied pleasantly, his gloved fingers curling in the mask’s grasp. At the doctor’s affirmation, the mask wasted no time in sidling right up to him. With his free hand he gathered up the doctor’s waist and promptly pulled him in without warning. As his touch pressed into his waist, Florice’s breath hitched beneath his plague mask. A sudden fluttery sensation beat against his ribcage, making his head spin uncontrollably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Was he really doing this? Dancing with the mask of all beings? This shouldn’t be stressful so why was he suddenly so unexplainably nervous? What was the foreign sickly feeling tugging at his chest? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     One possible explanation was the mask’s closeness, the two were in...</span>
  <em>
    <span>extremely </span>
  </em>
  <span>close proximity to one another. However, that didn’t quite fit the narrative since Florice had been in close contact with the mask many times before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    So why was this fiery warmth creeping up his neck happening right now?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Florice barely registered his own hand moving up to settle against the mask’s inky black neck. Ooze dribbled over his gloved fingers at the touch but that messy detail went unnoticed by the doctor. He was too preoccupied, focusing intently on the mask’s arm comfortably wrapped around his waist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Yep–just like that,” the mask’s voice faded into earshot as Florice snapped out of his stupor. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Sorry, what did you say?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Seems like someone’s already taught you how to dance. Your hand is in the right place, anyway,” the mask leaned into the doctor’s palm resting on his neck. Florice’s heart gave a jolt, sparking a burning warmth that blossomed outwards from his chest into the furthest tips of his body. He blinked rapidly, unable to tear his eyes away from the mask staring up at him as his body pressed against his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Yes…” Florice managed out against the current weightless sensation muddling his thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Well then, shall we?” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Florice nodded, focusing on the music for a split second before automatically stepping off into a waltz at the next opportune beat of the tune. Caught off guard, the mask stumbled for a moment before falling into the steady rhythm, hastily matching the doctor’s long strides. They waltzed across the floor, falling into line with the other dozens of people whirling around nearby. The doctor followed a steady rhythm, his footwork matching the mask’s with surprising ease. They danced around each other, fingers tightly intertwined as their separate moves merged into one fluid motion. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>And the doctor was whisked away from reality. He no longer registered the dozens of other waltzing pairs whirling by and narrowly avoiding collision with others. A certain calmness settled over his shoulders and in a way, he’d grown completely numb to the frightening crowd of rich nobles chattering away on the outskirts of the dancing circle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    He once feared the eyes of the overwhelming crowds, apprehension tightly gripping his chest over the possibility of gaining too much attention, the anxiety eating away at him to the point where he outright dreaded gatherings such as these. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    But here, on this dancing floor of the foyer? Now, in this particular moment? Whirling around the arms of his dearest companion? </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He feared nothing; not the crowds, not the eyes of the people, not his guilt…He was weightless–invincible even. A giddy feeling bubbled up from his core, an imaginary weight lifting from his shoulders as he felt elevated to the highest he’d ever been in his life. Although only temporary, for once, he was free. Free from his responsibilities. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     As the music echoed about the grand hall, the doctor picked up the subtle rising tempo of the musicians’ tune. The mask had noticed the change as well. When the doctor went to step up the pace of their spinning waltz, the mask moved at the exact same fraction of a second, the two seamlessly transitioning from one pace to the next. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Such smooth action blatantly caught the mask off guard. He chuckled, a low  warbling sound that resonated from his chest. His body shook against the doctor’s. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Woah darlin’, you certainly know how to dance!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    At the mask’s voice Florice was pulled from his high. His attention abruptly snapped down to meet mask gazing up at him as they spun around together as one. The reality of the situation abruptly dawned on the doctor as he was suddenly acutely aware of the mask’s fingers drumming around his waist and a burning warmth seeping from the mask’s body into his. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>His hand shifted against the mask’s oozing neck as his heartbeat roared in his ears. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>They were pressed together rather closely, weren’t they? </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Now where exactly did you learn to dance like this and what else have you been keeping from me?” The mask teased, tilting his expression sideways. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    A beat passed. Florice swept forwards and the mask stepped back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “You’ve forgotten that I lived in Alagadda for many, many years–” he started thoughtfully before the mask cut him off. The doctor felt a collective shift in pace as the mask’s footwork fell slightly off beat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “–Shhhh...” the mask’s fingers escaped the doctor’s grasp. He smartly patted the tip of the Florice’s leather beak as the two continued to waltz (although off beat) across the floor.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Let’s not talk about that place right now, dear. You know I like being in the present, not the past,” the mask’s hand rejoined the doctor’s and the two resumed whirling around to the proper pace of the music. Beneath his leather mask, an invisible soft smile tugged at the doctor’s lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Of course. My apologies if I upset–” the mask’s hand abruptly unwound from the doctor’s for the second time as he reached up and gently patted Florice’s masked cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>   “Now, now, I love hearing sorry just as much as the next guy but let’s have some fun. C’mon, I think the musicians are about to pick up the pace,” the mask snatched up the doctor’s hand as the two spun around, passing by the numerous other whirling pairs about the floor. Florice gazed down at the mask in his arms. Beneath his own plague mask, he broke into a smile, squeezing the mask’s hand in acknowledgement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    The atmosphere was warm, the candles casting the hall in a golden glow. Florice beamed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Yes, let’s.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Just as the mask described, the musicians’ tempo grew to rapid heights within the next passing seconds. The sweet melody echoed throughout the foyer and a chatter began to rise from the onlookers. Florice glanced sideways, noticing how other partners waltzing within the circle had moved outwards, forming a smaller uneven circle inside the larger one. The mask glanced around, noticing the events as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>   “Oh! Hey I know this one,” he chirped, promptly swooping in and stealing away the lead from Florice. He waltzed backwards, bringing the doctor with him. The two fell in line amongst the others forming the inside ring. They fit in seamlessly with the other dancers, just two more masks in a sea of glittering fabrics. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Florice gazed down at the mask curiously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “You know this one?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Of course! And I bet you do too,” the mask mused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “I’m not certain I’m familiar…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Just wait for the fun to start. I’m sure you’ll recognize it then,” the mask assured him, excitement dancing about the edges of his tone. He was practically bouncing on his toes as the two continued to sway, following the circle of dancing pairs all moving in one direction around in a ring. As the music began to pick up pace, Florice’s eyes darted around the circle of masked people, suddenly nervous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>   “What’s going to happen?” He asked, glancing back down at the mask. Black sludge dripped from the corner of the mask’s lips. He grinned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “What’s that supposed to mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Just go with the flow, you’ll be fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “What’s going to happen!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “If I tell you it’ll ruin the fun. Don’t worry about it, just follow the music,” the mask offered unhelpfully. Slight panic rose in the doctor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “I don’t know what that means!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>   The mask laughed, flexing his fingers intertwined with the doctor’s. Florice could practically feel the thrum of the music echoing through the floor beneath his heels. He felt the pattern of melodious notes approach a peak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Ready?” The mask asked, letting go of the doctor’s hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “No?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Just trust the music!” He laughed, black dripping from his chin, staining the doctor’s blouse. The final beat struck and Florice felt the mask’s hand on his waist tighten. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “What’s–”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Suddenly, he was whisked in the completely opposite direction they’d been dancing in. He spun, feeling the mask’s touch leave him as he staggered in surprise at the sudden change. Luckily, he was well versed in dance and quickly found his footing, spinning around only to come face to face with a complete stranger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     She wore one of those volto masks, blue swirls painted onto the porcelain over her face. She was taller than the doctor and clad in an elegant frilly yellow dress. At the doctor’s unstable appearance, she chuckled, voice muffled by her mask. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “First time?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Florice barely had time to react before she moved forwards and gathered up the doctor’s hand while lightly resting her other palm on his neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Er...yes,” Florice blinked, politely placing a gloved hand on her waist. The two whirled around, seamlessly waltzing along in line with the rest of the ring. Her expressionless features gazed down at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “You’ll be fine. It’s easy to figure out,” she shrugged. “Just follow the music.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     At her words Florice glanced to his right, spying the mask a little way down the line, also dancing with a complete stranger. The mask felt the doctor’s gaze and instinctively glanced over. He gave a quick two fingered wave before his attention was snatched away again and he went on spinning around with his partner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Florice glanced back up at the blue masked woman. The music echoing about the foyer was beginning to swell once more, ever-so slightly rising in tempo. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     The next switch would be happening any second now, that much was understood. The woman Florice was dancing with removed her hand from his neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Well, good luck to you, stranger,” the masked woman addressed Florice just as the music fell. She went whirling out of his grasp and down the line, falling into the arms of a new waltzing partner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Florice suddenly found himself with a new stranger of his own, a shorter man in an arlecchino mask clad in long coattails. The doctor automatically moved forwards, placing a gloved hand on the man’s collar as the two flawlessly transitioned back into a steady waltz spinning around down the line. As opposed to the previous woman, this man was completely silent which Florice was sort of grateful for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     As the two waltzed across the floor, Florice picked up the rising tempo of the music once more. This time, the shift had occurred much earlier than the first. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>   The pieces slowly clicked into place as the doctor’s heels snapped across the hall floor. The musical swells...the spinning waltz...the lively sets of rings of people switching and rotating around the circle past each other... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     The mask had been correct. The doctor </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>recognize this style of dance. This was a popular Alagaddan tradition, one performed in the city’s square more than once on occasion. It followed a simple pattern that shifted with every swell of the music. Throughout the dance, the tempo would gradually rise to incredibly fast-paced heights. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     As Florice spun around, his previous apprehensions melted away, replaced with assurance. Confidently, he let the music drown out his ears and the vibrations in the floor guide his footwork. As the music fell, he quickly let go of his partner and whirled around to the next stranger down the line. He gathered up the new taller man in his arms and confidently led off the waltz with his long strides. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     A mere few seconds passed before the music shifted and Florice let go of the man, watching him spin away down the line before a new masked woman filled his view. She was much more energetic than any of the previous strangers. The doctor was happy to whirl her around as the music transitioned and she went spinning off along the circle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Letting the music guide his feet, Florice lost himself in the dance, whirling about the foyer hall, falling into the arms of strangers and accepting the strangers who came spinning into his embrace. The tempo gradually rose and Florice’s head spun as he whirled through countless dance partners. Different masks blurred together as Florice danced through strangers, the musical rhythm moving at such a rate he barely had time to orient himself with a new partner before a new stranger took their place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     He could barely register his surroundings as he dizzily spun around the floor, exchanging hands with strangers. Just as he thought the music reached its highest peak, the tempo gave another jolting rise in pace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Soon, the doctor was left winded and barely able keep up as he spun past mask upon mask. Although he felt his feet growing tired, he never stumbled and never once fumbled with a careless mistake. He pivoted around on his toes, adrenaline rushing through his veins. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     The doctor was already barely able to maintain his pace when the music gave one final push, rising to the fastest tempo yet. Just as the music gave out, he pushed himself over the limit, giving his all as he whirled around one final time to the next stranger down the line. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Except it wasn’t a stranger’s arms he fell into. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Breathless, he gazed down at the familiar porcelain mask, black ooze dripping from his lips. He placed a hand on his partner’s neck as the mask’s arm slithered around his waist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     For a few precious moments, silence fell about the foyer as the musician’s final notes faded into the atmosphere. Florice’s chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath. Sweat rolled down his neck and  his face was practically burning up beneath the thick leather mask concealing his features. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Adrenaline coursed through his veins, head spinning as the mask shifted closer, leaning into his body. Florice gazed down at him, a mixture of elation and sudden excitement shooting through his body. His thoughts were high above, lost in the clouds while his heart fluttered in a maddening tempo. He was suddenly overcome with the overwhelming urge to move as he gazed down, wide-eyed and breathless at his partner. For a split second his eyes flickered downward towards the mask’s porcelain lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     The doctor knew for a fact that the addicting high of the adrenaline rush was messing up his train of rational thought and feeding his impulses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    But in the moment, he didn’t care. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    The mask’s free hand went to clasp the doctor’s but Florice evaded his grasp, swooping as he quickly placed his hand on the other side of the mask’s neck. For a split second, the mask showed a start of surprise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Florice leaned down, heartbeat roaring in his ears as the mask’s chin tilted upwards and fingers settled on his back. The touch only fueled his desire to to keep going. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    But it wasn’t just the beaky leather mask that prevented him from making a move. No, he just simply couldn’t…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Instead, he dropped his head, forehead balancing on the mask’s shoulder. He wholeheartedly leaned into the mask’s burning embrace, feeling the laughter bubbling up from his core. His shoulders shook as he buried his face in the mask’s collar, laughter echoing about the confines of his own mask. The doctor felt the mask’s arms tighten around him as he shook with mirth, letting out the sudden rush of high excitement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Around them came the clamoring uproar of chatter as the other dancers all staggered about in exhaustion and loud conversations ensued. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “So doc, I take it you had fun?” The mask chirped, loosening his grip on the doctor. Florice let out one last muffled hoot before he raised his head from the mask’s shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Oh yes, I think I’m having fun now,” he exclaimed breathlessly. The mask’s ooze dripped onto his blouse. Then he blinked, realizing just how closely entwined they were together. Florice hastily stole a half step backward, quickly withdrawing his hands from the mask’s neck as his wits returned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Yet as he stepped back, the mask followed him. Florice blinked in surprise as the mask spun around and leaned backwards, his back leaning against the doctor’s chest. The back of his head rested on Florice’s right shoulder. The doctor gave the mask a quizzical sideways glance as he had promptly put all his weight into his heels, tipping back and leaning against Florice. Suddenly quite flustered, Florice raised his hands uncertainly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Uh…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Do you think you’re up for another dance with me, dear?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Florice’s gaze was locked sideways on the mask but from the corner of his eye he made out the mask’s left hand reaching up to brush the thick leather pulled over his cheeks. Florice couldn’t quite understand the mask’s course of action.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Why was he doing this? If the doctor didn’t know better, he’d think it seemed...oddly intimate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    With slight uncertainty and a sudden unstable racing heartbeat, Florice’s palms settled lightly around the mask’s waist.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Perhaps…” he answered, voice slightly muffled beneath his mask. The mask patted his cheek before dropping his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Good! I think another song is going to start soon,” he proclaimed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Well, neither of us will be dancing like this,” Florice observed lightly, a sort of elation rising up through his body that flooded down his limbs to the tips of his fingers and toes. He felt very lightheaded. At the moment he was extremely grateful for the plague mask concealing his features. His face was practically on fire by this point. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Florice fingers left the mask’s waist and he firmly placed his hands on the mask’s back before playfully shoving him off. The mask laughed, stumbling forwards before regaining balance and whirling around to face Florice. He swept backwards in a bow, offering a hand to the doctor for the second time that evening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “So, how about that second dance?””</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>gay people (2/2)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>My fuckinnnn uhh keyboard broke that is why this update is late. also why the FUCK is this chapter 18 pages long</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>    Florice gazed at the mask’s outstretched hand. Then he sighed, shoulders sagging as he happily placed his hand in the mask’s blackened palm. </p><p>    “Of course,” he replied, squeezing the mask’s hand.</p><p>      “We’ll wait here for the next song to start,” he continued. Still holding onto the mask’s hand, he moved to stand beside his counterpart, shoulder-to-shoulder. </p><p>     However, he couldn’t quite bring himself to look at the mask and instead glared straight ahead into the mass of people as his heartbeat roared in his ears. He was painfully, acutely aware of the mask’s oozing fingers wrapped around his. </p><p>      To the doctor’s surprise, neither of them had pulled away from the grip. And Florice couldn’t bring himself to let go. </p><p>     They stood together on the outskirts of the inner circle of people. Rising chatter echoed throughout the hall, replacing the musical ambience with voices while the musicians rested. The mask shared in Florice’s silence, something he seldom did. Warmth blossomed from Florice’s chest as he enjoyed basking in the mask’s presence beside him. </p><p>      He gazed outwards at the crowd, eyes falling across person after person...mask after mask. Sweeping across the crowd, he picked out certain patterns in the sea of fabrics which he hadn’t observed before. Everyone was dressed differently. Each attendee standing in this foyer wore a pattern and different layer of fabric unique to them. </p><p>     As Florice’s gaze swept over the crowd, he cast an offhand glance toward the left side of the grand hall. The musicians were chatting amongst themselves and polishing their instruments under the lord’s balcony stretching high over the foyer. </p><p>    Florice cast a brief glance upwards at the balcony. There were several figures moving about on the elevated floor. He squinted. The lord was situated on his throne while his wife stood at the balcony railing in her purple flowing dress. There were several servants holding platters with food and goblets of alcohol standing aside. </p><p>      Standing beside the lord and his throne were four unidentified individuals. Their attire was odd and harshly stuck out from the elegancies of the other gowns and fabrics worn for the masquerade ball. They were donned in predominately furs while two had heavy packs slung over their shoulders. All four were maskless. Three were gazing out over the crowd while one was engaged in deep conversation with the lord. </p><p>      The man in conversation in the lord shifted, pulling out a rolled scroll. Florice stared as he unfurled the parchment, presenting its contents to the lord. The lord seemed mildly interested, sitting forward and inquiring further. The man waved a good-natured hand, turning his head, his side profile now in full view. </p><p>
  <em>     Oh….no… </em>
</p><p>      Florice’s blood ran cold as he was overcome with familiarity. The man’s features were distinctly recognizable even at a distance. To further confirm the doctor’s suspicions, the man turned, gesturing to the crowd as he addressed the lord and revealing the eyepatch slung over the other side of his face. </p><p>     The same man who’d chased him down the street not a day earlier. </p><p>     But why–how was the bounty hunter <em> here </em>of all places? He couldn’t have followed them into the estate, no...it must have been coincidence. The man couldn’t have known the doctor and the mask’s whereabouts. Perhaps the bounty hunter was coincidentally here at the same time as them and getting an audience with the lord for other bounty hunting business. </p><p>     Whatever his intentions here were, the doctor didn’t want to risk sticking around to be discovered amongst the crowd.</p><p>      Feeling a sudden rush of fear shoot through his veins, Florice’s fingers tightened around the mask’s and he discreetly nudged the mask’s shoulder, squeezing his hand. The mask glanced over at him quizzically. Beneath his own plague mask, Florice’s eyes were stretched wide. </p><p>      “The bounty hunter, he’s here.”</p><p>     “Huh? The one who chased you the other day? Where is he?”</p><p>    “Look up there,” Florice jerked his chin up, gesturing to the balcony across the foyer. The mask followed his lead, porcelain features tilting upright to stare at the contents of the balcony. Florice’s eyes returned to the bounty hunter standing beside the lord’s throne. By now the man had turned around, his features in full view as he idly surveyed the crowds below. </p><p>     A bolt of fear jolted the doctor’s chest–an icy sensation shooting through feverish beating of his heart. The man was glaring straight at the pair with one blazing eye. All hope of remaining invisible among the crowds had gone right out the window as he’d instantly spotted the two mingling in the outskirts of the crowd. </p><p>     Florice stiffened in surprise, heart beating loudly as the bounty hunter’s gaze wracked over him. However, he seemed disinterested in the doctor, instead fixing his predatory gaze onto the mask standing closely beside him. </p><p>     Ah, it appeared he didn’t recognize the doctor when he donned his leather plague mask. Although, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t put two and two together soon enough. </p><p>     “I think your friend is looking at me,” the mask muttered, tilting his expression sideways toward Florice. </p><p>     “We need to leave,” the doctor decided, feeling his heart fearfully jackhammer against his ribs as he unconsciously squeezed the mask’s hand. </p><p>     “But do we <em> really </em> need to?” The mask whined skeptically. Florice glanced over at him. </p><p>     “I don’t want to cause a scene–and they’re all definitely armed,” the doctor urged. </p><p>     “‘They’?”</p><p>    “He’s not alone. Those other three men up there–they’re with him, just look at them,” the doctor pointed out, glancing back up toward the balcony. He was just in time to observe the lead bounty hunter spin around to address the aforementioned three men and point over his shoulder into the crowd in the doctor and the mask’s general direction. Florice couldn’t make out the exact words passing his lips but he could tell from his agitated stance that the man was barking out orders to his cronies.</p><p>    Then all four men turned, swiftly stepping away from the railing and slipping out of sight as they disappeared further back into the balcony. </p><p>    Florice could only guess at where they were going–coming straight down the stairs to hunt down both him and the mask. The time to leave was <em> now </em>, any later would result in disastrous outcomes. </p><p>    “We’re leaving,” Florice abruptly proclaimed. </p><p>      “Fine–fine,” the mask grumbled. The doctor whirled around, promptly ducking into the crowd, tugging the mask along by hand. Hastily, he slipped through the crowd, pushing through the sea of fabrics and dodging past limbs. The mask struggled to keep up with his quick pace  and broke into a light jog as he followed the doctor pushing through the crowd.</p><p>      The two moved across the hall, making their way towards the main entrance where several people were moving in and out of the main doors. Bursting through the edge of the crowd, Florice stepped up onto the raised landing just before the doorway, the mask in tow. </p><p>     “Jeez, slow down will you?” He complained, tugging on the doctor’s gloved hand as he hopped up the step beside his companion. </p><p>     Ignoring his complaints, the doctor paused, glancing over his shoulder at the sea of people and masks flooding the hall. He couldn’t make out any of the hunters moving through the crowd...yet. </p><p>     “Come on,” he urged, dragging the mask along as he hastily hurried forwards to catch the closing door behind a masked couple who’d just left the building. Reaching out, Florice pushed open the door and stepped over the threshold. Hand in hand, the two slipped through the massive main doors and burst outside onto the top steps of the front stairway.</p><p>     The overwhelming chatter from inside the manor faded as the doors shut behind them. A sense of quiet tranquility washed over the doctor, despite the circumstances of their abrupt departure. </p><p>      Florice sucked in a breath of fresh air, the nighttime atmosphere cold against the sweaty skin of his neck. A pleasantly cool breeze ruffled his hair. Glancing up, the clouds from earlier had dissipated leaving the moon and stars to sparkle freely across the sky. The fresh air was quite pleasing and the doctor would’ve loved to take a moment to relish in the moment but alas, he had pressing matters to address. </p><p>      Hastily starting down the stairs, their footsteps broke the stillness of the air as they half-jogged down the marble steps. Reaching the dirt path at the bottom of the staircase, Florice stumbled to a halt, pausing as he glanced over his shoulder back up at the top of the stairs. No one else had emerged from the doors behind them yet. Although he breathed a temporary sigh of relief, his heart continued to pound and his breath came in short bursts. </p><p>     Suddenly, Florice was acutely aware of his hand still wrapped around the mask’s. Quickly, he unwound his gloved fingers from the mask’s grip and hastily brushed off his blouse. The mask knit his palms together and casually stretched out his arms in front of him. </p><p>      “Wow that place was crowded. Finally! I can move again,” he exclaimed, shaking out droplets of black dripping from beneath his sleeves and swinging his arms at his sides. </p><p>       “So, what's the grand master plan now, doc?” He spun around, facing Florice. The doctor blinked, moving to wipe a hand across his sweaty forehead only to be blocked by his own plague mask. He lowered his arm. </p><p>      “We should keep walking, get away from the building,” he decided breathlessly. He brushed past the mask and began a hasty stroll down the courtyard path. The mask whirled around and hurried to catch up beside him, matching his pace with quicker strides. </p><p>      Their footsteps were noiseless as the two wandered down the dirt footpath lined with candles. As Florice racked his brains, struggling to come up with a plan, he glanced at their surroundings. </p><p>     The lawn was dark. The maze of neatly trimmed hedges rose tall, towering over the doctor’s head. The tall walls of leaves on either side of the path were cast in deep shadows. The narrow footpaths branching off from the main pathway were illuminated by sparse, faint candlelight. Florice could only make out the main path ahead of his boots. </p><p>     There weren’t many others out strolling the pathways that night. The only visible people they passed were a maskless young man with a pipe, sitting silently on one of the stone benches along the edge of the path and further on, a pair of masked women holding fans and giggling to one another as they disappeared down a narrow footpath into the privacy of the shadowed hedges. </p><p>     The mask and the doctor were about halfway across the courtyard when Florice let out a sigh, running an agitated hand through his tangled hair. </p><p>     “Trouble just keeps following us,” he breathed, glancing up at the crisp night sky. Beside him, the mask shrugged. </p><p>     “Ah well, you know it’d be boring without it,” he snorted. “Although I’ll admit I’m kinda annoyed our evening was interrupted.” </p><p>     Florice was silent for a moment, his gloved hand pausing in his hair as a subconscious prickle of unease pricked the back of his neck. He held out his arm, willing the mask to stop as he paused, glancing over his shoulder back up at the marble stairway and the massive front doors of the manor. </p><p>     There, way back across the courtyard at the top of the stairs stood the four bounty hunters silhouetted against the light flooding out of the main doors. They had just begun to jog down the first set of stairs. Whether they’d spotted the pair across the courtyard or not remained to be seen. Florice didn’t want to stick around long enough to find out. He cursed.</p><p>    “They’re here!” He hissed. At his words, the mask cast a fleeting glance over his shoulder at the group far behind them on the steps.</p><p>     Panic shot through the doctor and he suddenly froze, unable to move. Despite the overwhelming urge to flee, his feet remained rooted to the ground as he feverishly remembered the outcome of the last time they’d engaged with the group of bounty hunters. He did <em> not </em>want to end up bleeding out with a hole in his side like last time. </p><p>     “What do we do?” Florice began hastily, voice rising as he struggled to keep the uneasiness from his tone. “There’s no way we can reach the gate in time and I don’t have any weapons–remember last time–?”</p><p>      The mask quickly picked up on the doctor’s panicky unease. He laid a hand on Florice’s wrist. Florice’s gaze jerked down to observe the mask’s fingers curling around his arm. </p><p>       “Don’t worry about it, dear. Come with me, let’s move out of the open,” the mask whirled around, tugging the doctor forwards by his wrist. Trusting the mask’s judgement, he willingly followed the mask across the main dirt path. The two stepped over to the edge of the path towards the entrance of one of narrow footpaths cutting through the hedges. </p><p>      Peering down into the dark leafy corridor, the doctor could make out a single candle at the end of the short path, illuminating the base pedestal of one of those tall marble pillars. </p><p>     Glancing back, he caught a single glimpse of the four hunters splitting up as they reached the courtyard grounds and began to spread out. Two were hurrying down the main path while the others ducked into the side pathways. </p><p>     And then the doctor was pulled into the corridor of shadowed hedges and the main path disappeared from sight. The mask led him down the narrow footpath headed toward the single pillar at the end illuminated by a candle at the pedestal. </p><p>    The mask released his grip on the doctor as they reached the dead end amongst the darkened hedges. </p><p>     Florice exhaled heavily, stumbling forward and leaning against the white marble of the pillar with one arm. As a cool breeze drifted through the air, the unsettling sound of rustling leaves caused the doctor to warily raise his head, eyes darting nervously over the dark hedges surrounding them. </p><p>     The light of the single candle at the base of the column bathed both his and the mask’s porcelain features in a shadowed glow. Glancing left, Florice discovered the path they’d come down was a clear shot back to the main dirt path. There was practically no cover here.</p><p>     His attention whipped around to the mask who had moved over to stand beside him, peering down the path too. </p><p>     “Yeah, this will work,” he mused, black secretions dripped down his porcelain cheeks as candlelight danced across his oozing expression. Florice stared at him incredulously, pushing off the pillar as a jolt of fear shot through his veins. </p><p>     “Are you serious right now? You can see straight down this path–and this pillar isn’t even wider enough to conceal one of us–let alone both of us behind it,” he gestured furiously. </p><p>     “–and there’s no time to get out of here and go find another path. They’ll be coming down the main way any minute now. Please, please tell me you had a plan coming down here?” Florice asked expectantly, glancing over at the mask with wide exasperated eyes. He didn’t bother to keep the fearful note from his tone.</p><p>     Oh this was going to end up just like last time, wasn’t it? </p><p>     “Maybe I do have a plan, so stop being so hopeless, it's unhealthy and does bad things for your complexion,” the mask chided, tone warbling almost cheerfully. Florice sighed, frustration creeping around the edges of his thoughts as the mask’s answer gave him absolutely nothing. </p><p>    Suddenly, the faint sound of a set of approaching footsteps reached his ears. Sound traveled far and easy through the still air of the quiet night. The doctor straightened up, gaze jerking back over down the footpath as he sucked in a deep breath and struggled to contain his rising panic. </p><p>     “Someone’s coming now. It’s got to be one of those hunters–” he pressed his palms into his temples, feeling a wave of frustration as he was unable to think of an escape from the situation sure to come. He didn’t even have a semblance of a plan and by the sounds of it, the mask didn’t either. “–Oh this is going to be a disaster–”</p><p>      “Hey!” the mask stepped forward into the doctor’s space and impatiently snapped his fingers in front of his leather plague mask. At the sudden noisy intrusion Florice flinched, gaze shooting upward. His brows knit into a frown as he glared at the mask standing before him with his hands on his hips and his grin unbothered as ever.</p><p>       Come to think of it, by Florice’s judgement, the mask seemed rather fine with this whole ordeal. Well, why wouldn’t he be? He didn’t have a mortal body to worry about and he was quite attracted to trouble, no matter what form it took. </p><p>     The footsteps drew closer and Florice swore he could pick out a second set that had joined with the first. He glanced down the path</p><p>      “Alright. If you really do have a plan, now would be a fantastic time to hear it,” Florice’s head whipped around from the path back over at the mask. </p><p>     “Oh I definitely do! Come here,” the mask chirped, beckoning to the doctor as he ducked over to stand between the pillar and the wall of dark hedges. In slight bewilderment, the doctor paused. He wasn’t certain what the mask was doing or how standing beside the pillar could possibly help but–</p><p>     Florice glanced back at the footpath, knowing the two bounty hunters would appear at the footpath entrance any moment. Perhaps it would be wisest to follow the mask’s instruction. </p><p>     Whirling around, Florice hurried over to stand before the mask. Heartbeat racing, thoughts of confusion, fear and impatience churned through his head. He gazed down at the mask, folding his arms over his chest. The space between the pillar and the hedges was minimal, and Florice’s crossed forearms were brushing the mask’s vest. </p><p>     “What now?” Florice hissed, agitated. He was fidgeting nervously and subtly shifting his weight from foot to foot in uneasy anticipation. He gave a start of surprise as the mask’s fingers suddenly wrapped around his biceps. </p><p>     “You trust me, right?” The mask asked abruptly, expression falling sideways in a quizzical tilt. Florice blinked in surprise at the sudden heavy question. He gazed down into the mask’s empty eyes, mind faltering as he processed the mask’s words. </p><p>
  <em>     Did he trust the mask?  </em>
</p><p>     The question knocked around the doctor’s thoughts for a moment. At the core, the mask was a foreign, unpredictable, and an extremely powerful dangerous being. Hell, the mask’s former title in Alagadda should’ve been a clue to his irregular, sadistic nature. After all, the adjective ‘anguish’ was seldom ever used to shed a positive light. </p><p>     In any right mind, the doctor should’ve never allowed himself to grow so attached to the mask. </p><p>    Yet...the two had been through so much together. Throughout the years, the two had faithfully stuck together as they journeyed across Europe, one never leaving the others side. The mask was a wonderful partner, assisting the doctor in his work and saving his life on numerous accounts. They’d grown from simple acquainted travel companions to close friends. <em> Very </em>close friends. So close that they were happy to share each other’s mind whenever the opportunity arose. The doctor regarded the mask as his dearest companion so–</p><p>     “Yes–Yes of course I trust you,” Florice nodded vigorously, uncrossing his arms.</p><p>     “Ah, wonderful.”</p><p>     “Why would you ever doubt otherwise?”</p><p>     “Just checking,” the mask chirped nonchalantly. His grip on the doctor’s biceps lessened as his hands moved up to rest on either side of the doctor’s clammy neck. Florice cringed at the sudden sensation of the mask’s warm fingers settling against his skin. He wasn’t particularly used to contact. </p><p>      “Now come here,” the mask inched backwards until his heels bumped against the pedestal of the white column and his back hit the grooved pillar. As he'd moved, he gently guided the doctor along with him. Florice, although a little reluctant, obliged, letting the mask’s hands resting on his neck bring him forward until he halted, glancing down and realizing his feet were woven in between the mask’s.</p><p>     A warm feeling blossomed from his chest, heart fluttering as a hot flush creeped up his neck at the unusually close contact with the mask. He fixed his gaze on the pillar just past the mask’s expression as he was unable to bring himself to meet the mask’s eyes. </p><p>      The doctor was very grateful for the leather plague mask affixed over his own features. He could feel his cheeks practically glowing. </p><p>      Unfortunately for him, that was about to change. </p><p>     The mask reached up, hands disappearing into the doctor’s mess of black hair. Florice stiffened as he felt the mask’s fingers working at the buckles buried in the back of his hair. He slightly edged away yet remained firmly within the mask’s grasp.</p><p>    “Wait what are you–”</p><p>     The strap of the doctor’s plague mask slackened and he felt the leather being gently raised from his cheekbones. As the mask lifted away Florice’s mask, the cold night air washed against his sweaty complexion, causing him to suppress a shiver. He blinked rapidly, eyes adjusting from the shaded tints of his former lenses to rich the dark light cast by the candle beside their feet. </p><p>     “Well hello there, doc.” </p><p>    Florice felt the tip of the mask’s thumb affectionately brush his stubble, tilting his chin downward and forcing the doctor to gently meet his gaze. </p><p>    For a split second, the still air against his cheeks was pleasant and refreshing but the doctor quickly became self conscious of the flushed state of his expression. He struggled to push down the heartbeat roaring in his ears and the fiery blood rushing to his face. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the mask’s oozing expression inches away from his own. He heard the dull thud of his plague mask hitting the ground as the mask tossed it aside. He didn’t dare look. </p><p>     Yet, even through his flushed haze, the doctor’s wits remained about him. He blinked, the panicked feeling already settling back into place as he was quite aware of his sudden circumstances. He sucked in a breath, eyes stretched wide. </p><p>     “What did you do? They’ll see me face now, they’ll recognize me for certain–” </p><p>      “You trust me, remember?” The mask echoed, gazing up at the doctor with a wide grin. Blinking rapidly, Florice let out a shaky exhale. </p><p>     “Well–” the doctor’s words were cut short as the mask’s fingers curled around his gloved wrists. </p><p>     Despite the contact, the doctor was little in the way of resistance as the mask guided his hands upwards, placing his gloved fingers around his porcelain cheeks and positioning his thumbs to rest atop his cold cheekbones. </p><p>     The mask let go of his wrists and the doctor was left cupping the mask’s features in a very–</p><p>     “The hunters–they’ll round the corner any second–What are you–how is this supposed to–?” Florice’s incredulous words stuttered to a halt as he felt the mask’s hand grasp his chin, tugging him in closer. He blinked, head spinning as the deafening skips of his heartbeat drowned out his ears. </p><p>     Two heavy sets of footsteps ran past the entrance of the narrow footpath between the hedges. One paused, whirling around and approaching the entrance of the darkened pathway, peering down into the dimly lit dead end. </p><p>      “Hey! The guy the boss was looking for was wearing a red coat, right?” The bounty hunter’s voice rang out, calling over to his other companion. Florice stiffened, feeling a jolt of panic stab through his core but he didn’t dare turn his eyes away from the mask in his arms to bother glancing at the hunter standing at the end of the path. </p><p>      Florice’s words were an uneasy breathless stutter.</p><p>     “They’re here–we’ve–”</p><p>     “You know, in this dimension there’s one thing I’ve found greatly amusing,” the mask interrupted, his tone practically dripping amusement. Florice frowned, still cupping the mask’s cheeks with his gloved palms. </p><p>     “What are you on about?” He hissed furiously, hearing the second set of heavy footprints hastily backtrack to join the first at the entrance of the path. The mask’s fingers under Florice’s chin drew him closer but the doctor was too lost in a mixture of elation and fear-induced adrenaline to notice. All he could do was breathlessly stare down into familiar porcelain features, barely able to register the mask’s next words. </p><p>     “The people here are painfully old fashioned. Everyone seems to get really uncomfortable at the sight of–oh how do you put it? Ah–right, public displays of affection.”</p><p>     Florice barely had a split second to process the meaning behind the mask’s words before the mask lurched forwards hastily closing the gap between them. A second pair of lips seized the doctor’s own. Eyes stretched wide, a shockwave of astonishment shot through the doctor’s body at the touch of the mask’s freezing lips brushing against his own. His thoughts froze and his body seemed to lock up of its own accord as he was suddenly paralyzed on the spot.</p><p>     As uncomfortably cold substance dripped down his chin, he could hardly register the foreign touch. The strange sensation didn’t click right away as a kiss until the mask’s warm hands moved upward, sliding through the doctor’s hair and roughly pulling him in until the fabric of his blouse scraped up against the mask’s vest. </p><p>
  <em>     Oh.  </em>
</p><p>      With his initial surprise fading, the doctor’s mind kicked into gear as the circumstances of the situation dawned on him. He’d expected the mask’s plan to be more violent–perhaps something more akin to luring the hunters into the dark footpath and shredding them apart with tendrils but definitely not such a bold action like <em> this.  </em></p><p>     Although, as cold and unfamiliar as it was, he was begrudgingly beginning to prefer the latter. A strange sort of unbridled joy stirred from its slumber, rising through his body. His head spun, recalling the feeling he’d felt earlier being pulled so closely to the mask as they danced–he was experiencing the same rush of unexplainable happiness. </p><p>    Did he...did he <em> like </em>being held so tenderly by the mask or the feeling of his fingers twirling knots into the locks of his hair? </p><p>    The sound of footsteps started uncertainly down the pathway. </p><p>     “You two–there!” The first voice was muffled by the wall of hedges. </p><p>     Heart pounding, Florice understood what he had to do. Squeezing his eyes shut he gingerly leaned into the kiss, feeling cold liquid drip from his lips as the acidic scent of the mask’s black ooze overwhelmed his senses. From the mask’s eyeholes, the substance dribbled down over Florice’s gloved thumbs too, the doctor’s fingers digging into porcelain cheekbones as he pressed the mask up against the pillar. </p><p>      A sneaking suspicion nagged at the back of the doctor’s mind.</p><p>
  <em>     Is this the real angle the mask had been playing at all along–for all these years?  </em>
</p><p>     “Hey!–OH–oh–” </p><p>     Through his racing heartbeat, Florice could hear the bounty hunter’s exclamation of surprise as the footsteps stuttered to a halt. </p><p>      “–must be the wrong one–Apologies!” The hunter’s words spilled out hastily. He whirled around, grabbing his companion by the shoulder and taking him along with him. The two men marched back up the narrow footpath towards the main pathway. </p><p>     Florice was beginning to lose his air–he hadn’t quite been aware of the breath he was holding. </p><p>     As their rapid footsteps hastily faded out of earshot, Florice was overcome with a sudden wave of awkwardness. He hadn’t exactly returned the kiss since he was still hovering on the brink of astonishment and uncertainty. And the mask couldn’t <em> actually </em> kiss him since he was...well...a <em> literal </em> mask. In reality, this was a bit of an uncomfortable situation–the two pressed up against each other sort of awkwardly touching lips. </p><p>     Knowing the danger had passed, the doctor abruptly snapped to his senses, yanking himself down from his messy high. The coldness of reality gripped his shoulders, cooling his head. His eyes shot open. Suddenly unwilling, the doctor drew back from the kiss, even as the mask’s freezing porcelain lips seemed to chase him. </p><p>     Hastily, his fingers slipped from the mask’s cheeks and he pushed himself apart. The mask released his hands from the depths of the doctor’s hair, allowing him to reel away. </p><p>     Staggering backwards a few steps, the doctor’s head spun as he regained his balance. He paid no mind to the mask who stepped away from the pillar, humming something inaudible as he straightened out his rumpled vest. </p><p>     Florice struggled to wrap his head around the overwhelming flurry of countless emotions and thoughts raging about his mind in a mental storm. The doctor numbly brought his gloved hand upward, gingerly running his fingers along his smudged lips. He could still practically taste the acidity. Bringing his hand away, he found his fingertips coated in the mask’s black secretions, ooze dripping downwards into his palm. </p><p>     Blinking slowly, he mindlessly lowered his hand, thoughts blazing. Skin ablaze too–his whole body from head to toe felt oddly pleasantly feverish. Everything that had occurred just moments before sort of blurred together in a frazzled mess. He’d have to sort out this whirlwind of emotions later by himself when he had more time, he was too confused right now. </p><p>     For now, he would take the easiest route possible for his next course of action–simply pretend the events had never happened. </p><p>     “Alright–“ Florice cleared his throat awkwardly, shoving down his racing thoughts. He whirled around and turned his back on the mask. “–We should get moving. The hunters are gone–” the doctor took a single step forward towards the pathway as he continued to mindlessly babble. “–yes–we should be able to–”</p><p>     “–Wait–”</p><p>     “No. Absolutely not,” the doctor immediately snapped at the mask’s proclamation without second thought. </p><p>     “Yes. Stop, this is serious. Talk to me.”</p><p>      The doctor suddenly jumped, freezing in his tracks as a set of fingers snatched up his wrist from behind. He paused for a moment, weighing his options. </p><p>     Quickly coming to the realization he’d have to face this moment at some point in his life and there were no positive repercussions in putting it off, he let out an audibly  heavy sigh. Slowly dragging his feet he turned around to face the mask who was firmly gripping his wrist, pulling him back. </p><p>    Florice found himself unable to fix his eyes anywhere near the mask, instead gazing just past his shoulder. Although the mask’s porcelain expression remained an oozing grin, he tilted his head, subtly leaning sideways as he tried to catch the doctor’s avoidant gaze. The grip on the doctor’s wrist loosened, the mask now gently letting the doctor’s hand rest in his. And Florice let him. He felt his heart flutter at the gentleness of the touch. </p><p>      “Doc, I–“</p><p>     “What do you want me to say? What is there to say!” He snapped immediately, cutting off the mask’s next words. Then he abruptly quieted, gaze shifting down to stare at his hand resting in the mask’s palm. His gaze hardened. </p><p>      “We should get going,” he repeated. “Those h–“</p><p>    “Florice…”</p><p>     The doctor’s gaze jerked up at the mask’s use of his name. He couldn’t recall the last time the mask had addressed him by name. He was always certain to pick a name for the doctor from his variety of pet nicknames. </p><p>    The doctor blinked slowly, anticipating for the mask to continue.</p><p>     “...Florice, I’m in love with you.” </p><p>      As the mask’s words hung in the cool night air, the doctor felt his hand slip. A wave of weakness had quite suddenly rushed through his body leaving him lightheaded, thoughts spinning. </p><p>    Everything made sense now.</p><p>      Stunned, he lifted his eyes to stare at the mask who was suddenly illuminated in a strange new light. A blinding one at that, too. The doctor’s gaze bored into the glowing white of his porcelain features. He moved his lips, attempting to form words but his throat was suddenly drier than a desert. </p><p>      Despite the relative simpleness of the mask’s confession, he’d still effectively brought the doctor to stunned silence. </p><p>      Rapidly, the doctor blinked, shaking his head in pure astonishment. He glanced away from the mask, thoughts churning madly as he struggled to form an audible sentence. Swallowing back the dryness, the doctor sucked in a breath. </p><p>     “No...No that’s not…” he started, breaking off in an awkward cough, clearing his throat. Glancing up, his brows slightly furrowed as he drew his gaze over stare evenly into the mask’s expression. His hand drifted upwards as he continued, struggling to turn his jumbled whirlwind of thoughts into coherent speech. </p><p>      “You–You’re a <em> mask. </em> Yet–no...you’re not...you’re a <em> Lord </em> you’re the Black Lord of–No no...you don’t feel anything–you feel nothing, you <em> can’t </em>feel–” </p><p>      The doctor’s words suddenly fell short as he became aware of the mask’s posture. </p><p>     His hands had fallen to his hips and his shoulders were bristling as he rocked forwards on his heels, clearly affronted as he addressed the doctor. </p><p>    “Well <em> excuse you. </em> I am much more than just some <em> mask </em>,” even as he spoke in sincerity, his warbled tone held a playful edge. </p><p>     “I know–I know,” the doctor corrected himself hastily, raising his hands. The mask eyed him skeptically. The doctor’s shoulders sagged and he let out a dry sigh, arms falling back at his sides. </p><p>      “All I mean is...you just...you’re just mistaking yourself–you’re not in l–”</p><p>     “Oh dear,” the mask cut in softly, straightening up. The doctor fell silent as the mask’s porcelain expression tilted sideways, sending rivulets of black cascading to the ground. “I think you’re getting a little mixed up with your own thoughts, there, doc,” he chided gently. </p><p>       Florice let the charged silence hang between them for a few moments. His thoughts churned in a mad whirl. He found that accepting the wholehearted truth in the mask’s words was quite a difficult task. He blinked.</p><p>      Moving slowly, the mask quietly stepped forward, his eyeless gaze never breaking the doctor’s eyes for a single second. The doctor felt a pair of warm hands gently encompass his own and he glanced down to see his fingers intertwined with the mask’s. The mask’s hands tightened around his in a light squeeze, drawing the doctor’s gaze upward once more. </p><p>      “You know, we’ve been rather close companions together for what...four...five years now, yet you say you still feel nothing? Spare me the excuses–I’ve seen how close you’ve let me get.”</p><p>      The mask lifted the doctor’s left palm, bringing the back of his hand up to his lips and pressing a kiss to the smooth leather of his glove. He raised his head, eyeing the doctor’s wide-eyed expression. </p><p>      “You’re a liar, darling...and a terrible one at that.”</p><p>      Florice’s heart raced, skipping over beats with reckless abandon. He lowered his hand. </p><p>     “No…” he started uncertainly. “No I don’t–Love is useless–I’ve never had use for it. Such trifling emotions interfere with my work. They waste the crucial clarity of my mind and time needed for my work–”</p><p>     “–Then make time,” the mask interjected. </p><p>   The doctor fell silent for a moment, blinking as he let out an inaudible sigh. He gingerly slid his gloved hands out of the mask’s grasp. Raising an arm, he rubbed his fingers across the bridge of his nose in furious thought and squeezed his eyes shut. </p><p>    “No, I can’t be <em> in love </em>. That’s not–”</p><p>    “Well then...”</p><p>      The doctor paused, cracking open a single eyelid as the mask’s voice drew near. He lowered his arm and opened his other eye to stare at the mask’s hands reaching up and softly brushing his jaw. He felt the mask’s warm fingers gently cup his cheeks. A tingling sensation rose from the spots where the mask’s fingertips connected with his pale skin. </p><p>     “...if that’s true, then why are we still having this conversation, hmm?” The mask hummed. The doctor gazed down at him, The mask’s porcelain features fell sideways in a slight tilt as he continued. “Leave, why don’t you? You have no time for things such as this, isn’t that right?”</p><p>     Florice contemplated his words. For the first time, he was willing to admit that perhaps he <em> did </em> feel something. There was most certainly at least... <em> something </em> there. </p><p>     Why else had he grown so close and comfortable to mask? Or, why did he feel so warm and happy as he rested in the mask’s arms? Why else would his head spin or heart flutter so feverishly? </p><p>     Sighing, the doctor reluctantly dropped his guard, gingerly opening his mental gate and letting his emotions flow over him in a calming wave. Eyes fluttering shut, he leaned into the mask’s gentle touch and raised his hands to lightly rest on the mask’s shoulders.</p><p>    “You really...love me, don’t you?” The doctor murmured, blinking down at the mask with a soft gaze. The mask ran a careful thumb over the thin scar running down the doctor’s cheek in response. </p><p>    “Of course, my dearest,” he hummed. The doctor’s gaze shifted sideways, glancing away as he stared at the ground beneath his boots. </p><p>   “I...don’t really know what I’m doing,” he confessed quietly, dipping his head. </p><p>   “Then let me help you,” the mask lifted Florice’s uncertain gaze before softly tugging him in.</p><p>    The doctor’s eyes slid shut as he swayed forwards, pressing a kiss to the mask’s pleasantly cool lips. His gloved hands crept up the mask’s neck, black ooze flowing over his fingers as they disappeared into the tangles of the mask’s hair. He relished in the cold black ooze filling his senses, feeling the mask’s thumb swipe across his jaw to wipe away a stray rivulet of acidic substance. </p><p>     Being a mask, the mask still couldn’t return the kiss so instead took to pleasantly humming as Florice’s lips pressed against his. The doctor didn’t dare open his eyes, even as the mask’s warm hands left his cheeks, traveling down along his body before stopping to rest around his waist. From there, he gently tugged the doctor closer. </p><p>       Florice’s fingers tightened in the mask’s hair. Drinking in the mask’s stinging scent, his heart fluttered contentedly. Some previously unknown hunger was suddenly satisfied after all this time. His fingers slackened amongst the mask’s locks and he leaned forward one last time to press a hard kiss to the mask’s lips. </p><p>     As his initial hunger quelled, the doctor’s gloved hands slowly slipped through the mask’s hair, running down to rest at the base of his neck. Rich golden eyes fluttering open, the freezing sensation of the mask’s lips against his faded as he reluctantly pulled his kiss away in order to breathe. </p><p>    The mask leaned forwards, happily bumping his forehead against the doctor’s as the two stood, intertwined together and swaying under the dim yellow light of the candle at the base of the pillar. </p><p>     A faint chuckle rose from Florice’s chest and his lips cracked into a rare quiet grin. He smiled, closing his eyes as his fingertips lightly drummed against the mask’s neck. </p><p>    “I do love you, you know.”</p><p>     “I know, dear,” the mask chirped. </p><p>     Realizing the mess of black substance was still smeared across his mouth, Florice moved to lean away for a moment. As he did, the mask chased him, pressing a light peck to the corner of his mouth. Florice let out a small laugh before shooing him off. </p><p>     He raised a gloved hand and swiped his dark sleeve across his mouth, working to rub the corrosive stains off his face. Flicking away the last of the black ooze, he made a mental note to be less messy next time he tried kissing the mask. </p><p>     Gazing down at the mask, his fingers grazed his companion’s skin as he idly traced the nape of his neck. The doctor could still feel the mask’s hands loosely resting on his waist. </p><p>    “What’s next for us, do you suppose?” Florice mused quietly. </p><p>    The mask beamed. </p><p>   “Well, lots of things since you and me have all the time in the world,” he replied simply. </p><p>     A light smile touched the doctor’s lips. He gingerly wrapped his arms around the mask’s shoulders before moving to pull him into a hug. The sensation of sidling up against another person was still quite odd to the doctor, so he expressed slight, ginger hesitance, even as he comfortably rested his chin on the mask’s shoulder. He felt the mask’s arms instantly shift around him, wrapping around his torso, tugging him so they were tightly pressed together. </p><p>    The doctor’s skin tingled as the mask buried his face into the doctor’s neck, affectionately nuzzling him. Eventually, Florice abandoned all traces of hesitation and melted into his partner’s arms, letting his body soak up the mask’s warmth.</p><p>    As they stood glued together, swaying lightly under the dim shadows of the hedges, the doctor found himself wishing for this moment–this feeling to never end. He wanted to tightly cling to the mask forever. </p><p>     Alas, the moment shattered when the sensation of something quite cold and uncomfortably slick dribbled down the doctor’s neck, soaking into his clothes. He frowned, sighing as he peeled away, gently pushing the mask off him. </p><p>    “You’re drooling your secretions all over my clothes again,” he chided, glancing down to admire the fresh stains rubbed into his shirt. He raised a hand, swiping his fingers across his collarbone and flicking away the excess ooze. The mask let out a warbling chuckle as his hands settled back down on Florice’s waist. </p><p>     “Ah well, let’s just focus on the love instead,” the mask’s fingers tenderly brushed the doctor’s cheek. Florice cracked a gentle smile, gazing down at the mask with a soft light. </p><p>    As he did, a chilly breeze picked up, rustling the leaves of the hedges and ruffling through his hair. He glanced up, observing the crisp clearness of the sky above as the cold draft washed over his skin.</p><p>     “We should probably move somewhere else, it’s rather chilly tonight,” the doctor observed, glancing back down at his companion.</p><p>    “If that’s what you want, love,” the mask gave his cheek one last affectionate pat before allowing the doctor to pull away and step out of his arms. </p><p>     Stealing a step backwards, Florice spied his plague mask resting in the dirt at the base of the marble column. He briefly stepped past his masked partner and stooped, collecting the object from the ground in one clean swipe. </p><p>     Straightening up, he shook out the leather and ran his sleeve over the tinted glass lenses, ensuring they were wiped clean. Then he pivoted back around, the yellow light of the single candle reflecting off the dark lenses. He raised the mask to his face, affixing the leather over his features and hastily reaching around his head in order to fasten the clasps of the straps. Once he was certain the object was secure, he lowered his hands and sucked in a deep breath, inhaling the calming lavender scent of the herbs stuffed in the beak tip. </p><p>     “Oh your hair is sticking out everywhere–come here, let me fix that.”</p><p>     The doctor’s beak turned sideways at the mask’s words. The mask waltzed over, sidling right up into his personal space. The doctor dipped his head, allowing better access for the mask to reach. The mask’s fingers gently worked through Florice’s hair, fixing the stray strands that stuck out in odd places and had been completely messed up and pushed all over the place by the leather mask and its straps. </p><p>     Finishing in a few seconds, the mask gave the doctor’s chest an affectionate pat before stepping back to admire his handiwork. </p><p>     “Hmm, yeah that’s much better,” he mused, stroking his chin, black flowing over his fingers. </p><p>     “Thank you.”</p><p>    “You’re welcome dear!” The mask extended an arm to the doctor. Smiling beneath his plague mask, Florice stepped forward, accepting the mask’s invitation and linking his arm through his partner’s. The mask patted his arm and the two stepped away from the pillar. They ducked back into the dark narrow footpath and began to stroll back between the hedges whence they came. </p><p>    “We have options you know,” the mask’s words cut through the comfortable silence, as the leaves bending over their heads cast the pair in deep shadows. Florice glanced over, his yellow eyes alight behind the dark tinted lenses of his mask. </p><p>    “Hm?”</p><p>    “Well, we can either head back into that party, experience the thrill of not knowing whether those bounty hunters will come back or not, or we can go back to the tavern for a nice quiet normal night.”</p><p>     “I pick the latter.”</p><p>     The mask laughed. </p><p>     “Thought you’d say that.”</p><p>      Florice smiled and off they went into the night.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>What if we kissed and we were an eldritch mask and a necromantic plague doctor in fourteenth century england</p><p> </p><p>The next fic is the only other fic thats 7 chapters. After that its just one shots and 2-4 chapters. Those will not be posted chronologically and we will be jumping all over the timeline</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>